


Metronome

by SuperstringSymphony



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad coping mechanisms, Canon-Typical Violence, Flower Language, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Identity Porn, Idiots in Love, It takes them a while to earn the rating, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, Looking at you Tony, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Pining Steve Rogers, Praise Kink, Protective Steve Rogers, Resolved Sexual Tension, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, character injury, gratuitous froyo eating, past bad relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-01-18 00:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 87,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12377307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperstringSymphony/pseuds/SuperstringSymphony
Summary: “Thank you.  You're wonderful.”  Tony looks away, hands drumming along the lab table nervously.  Steve stares at his hands.  A nervous gesture so like Iron Man's that first day Steve woke up in this strange new world.  An empty suit.  Bruises with an explanation that just seems phoned in.  Tony exhausted and aching but still working, funding the Avengers through his own pockets. Tony keeping untold secrets close, brown eyes wide and filled with something unspeakable in the hallway, leaning away from Steve's arms instead of into them.  If it's true then Steve's even more screwed than he thought he was.Dangerous does not even begin to describe Tony Stark.  He thinks, even in his own mind he sounds resigned.In which the world at large does not know Tony Stark is Iron Man, and Steve falls for him harder than a bag of bricks anyway.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in an AU where Tony has never admitted to being Iron Man. This borrows heavily from early 616 canon and Avengers Assemble in that Tony and Steve are very close in age, and it's the Avengers who go and find Cap in the ice and not shield. Tony is also the one backing the Avengers-SHIELD is still a presence here, but is not involved with the Avengers in the same way as the movies. The time period is modern however, as is the tech Tony creates/uses. Will be explicit at a later date, but if you are looking for a PWP this is going to get a bit long before we get to that point. A BIG THANK YOU TO: The awesome people on the Discord server, and the many playlists that inspired my return to Stony loving.

Steve has always found heartbeats to be soothing, almost mystical in their cadence. He remembers curling up with Bucky when he was small and skinny, and the draftiness of his tiny apartment in the winter made it dangerous to sleep alone. Bucky's heartbeat is strong and steady where Steve's sometimes flutters and beats too slow or too fast.

 Later after the serum it's almost overwhelming. His hearing is so sharp that he no longer has to press his ear close to hear. Peggy's heart is strong and sure, steady as a rock even as she's buffeted on all sides. The soldiers don't believe in her at first, but she makes them see.

Steve loves her instantly, she's a kindred spirit. She has fought and persevered for everything and has come out victorious against all odds. Steve is starstruck but he's always been shit at talking to people he's sweet on. He's just a kid from Brooklyn after all, and Peggy, well she's the real deal. Still, her pulse does pick up a little when Steve enters a room, although that might be from aggravation. Steve still smiles to hear it though.

He draws her holding a gun and kicking her enemies in the face. When he gives it to her she laughs and kisses him on the cheek. He swears he's red for days after that.

He never does tell anyone quite how acute his senses have become, after all being in close quarters with soldiers-they do things at night he figures are not polite to discuss in the light of day. The comfort from knowing his men are safe and healthy is still there though. He tucks that security behind his chest, holds it close to his own heart.

This new body is never cold, even in the dead of winter trekking through mountains. People touch him less now that he stands tall and broad instead of small and frail. As much as he loves the freedom and comfort of simple things like being able to breathe easily, he misses the quiet peace of curling close to a friend for warmth.

Bucky clasps his shoulder now, instead of draping a protective arm across his back. It's strange to miss these things like the aching bloom of a fresh bruise, but he does it all the same. Maybe sometimes he holds his breath to remember what it felt like to struggle for it, maybe sometimes he thinks he doesn't deserve this new strength when other men die on the battlefield crawling for their lives, maybe sometimes he realizes he's so far in over his head that he's drowning.

There were supposed to be several others like him, but now the weight of all those expectations has fallen to him. He wanted to be a soldier, but he's Atlas instead. He is The Captain now though, and there is no time to process the terrible wonder of what he has become. So he pushes it down, locks it up like an ugly secret.

When they are far behind enemy lines he comforts himself by listening to the steady sound of the Howling Commandos hearts when they rest. Even Namor sometimes stays near enough for Steve to pick it up. Knowing they are all alive and safe makes it possible for Steve to drift off for a bit. At least until the morning comes and their mission takes precedence over all else.

He knows it's not possible that he heard Bucky's heartbeat over the charging of the train when he fell. Fast too fast, battering like a terrified bird in cage. He knows it's not possible, and yet.

He still dreams of that sound, of reaching, of his arms being too short and his enhanced speed meaning nothing in the end. Not enough not enough not enough.

Camp is not the same after that. He does a headcount and startles when the clock-like beat of Bucky's heart comes up missing. Steve is halfway out of his tent-shield in hand, before he remembers. Regret tastes bitter in his mouth and he sobs himself to sleep that night.

Later he sits in a ruined bar, emptiness clawing at him as surely as any knife wound. Peggy puts a hand on his shoulder but he feels carved out of glass. Numbness is better than horror he supposes, but Bucky was one of the people he'd counted on coming out of this war no matter what.

He drinks and it does nothing to quieten his mind. There is no time to properly grieve what has been lost, nor even a body to bury. Bucky is gone, and even the taste of his favorite alcohol brings Steve no comfort.

Hours later he stands in a bombed out street and hurls the nearly empty bottle in a fit of frustration and rage. It shatters on the wall of an abandoned building, useless across the brick as it is in his stomach. Anger festers in his heart, anger at himself, anger so strong and breathtaking it brings Steve to his knees. All this strength and still Bucky slipped through his fingers. What a way to repay the guy that always had your back. It takes Steve a moment to realize he's crying, and then it's impossible to stop. Great heaving sobs that wrack his body. Peggy finds him there-curled into himself and shaking. She doesn't berate him or mock him, merely helps him to his feet. Sleep does not find him that night.

Everything after that is a blur. Then he crashes a plane into icy water and doesn't hear much of anything for a long long time. Later they will ask him if he dreamed while he was frozen, and he will tell them there was only blackness, but that is a lie. Deep in the dark he dreams of falling endlessly in silence.


	2. Defrosty The Snowman

Awareness comes back to him in waves. Sound eddies around him as though he's still underwater. There is a cushion beneath his back, bright lights above him paint the insides of his lids with warm rosy colors. Strange, he doesn't remember descriptions of the afterlife including the smell of disinfectant. His body feels heavy, blood pooling in his limbs as if he's been still for far too long. There should be grittiness to his eyelids, but they feel smooth and clean, as if someone had dabbed at them with a cloth. A steady beeping sound sings along with what he knows to be his own heartbeat somewhere to the left. His fingers tingle, and it hits him with sudden crystal clarity that he is not dead at all. As if to drive that point home muffled sound of voices trickles into his range of hearing.

“How close are we to land anyway? I'd go up and see myself but the barometric pressure keeps changing topside and it makes for bad flying weather.” Says the voice of a woman. Flying weather? English though, that's a good sign he's not in Hydra's clutches.

“Someone needs to tell Thor to come down and stop doing the Macarena on the deck, he's making the crew nervous.” Another voice, deeper, playful, he reminds Steve of Bucky when he was feeling particularly like taking the piss. There's the sound of metallic whirring, heavy footsteps. Steve feels the vibrations even where he's laying. Whatever or whoever is walking must be _heavy_.

“Don't be a buzzkill birdbrain, you're just mad because you taught him how to do the booty bump and he hip checked your flat ass across the living room.” Metallic. That's the first word that comes to mind. Almost as if whoever is speaking is doing so through copper pipes. The rhythm of the words is fast, a whipcrack of intelligence behind them.

“I like to watch him dance, he's pretty light on his feet for such a big strapping guy!” This voice is full of mirth, he can hear the smile there even without seeing her.

“Hey, hey hey, is no one gonna address the fact that tin man over here said I have a flat ass?”

“You do have a flat ass big bird, don't be bitter about it.”

“Bitter, bitter! I'll have you know-” Steve tries to move then, but all he manages is a sort of sad flailing motion with his right hand. That seems to be enough to get the attention of the people in the hall however, because the next thing he knows there are loud footsteps coming towards his bed.

“Oh my gosh I think he's waking up!” It sounds almost like she's hovering around his face; a heartbeat like a hummingbird's is just barely audible to Steve's ears. Steve frowns in confusion. Opening his eyes has never been this difficult. Curiosity and the need to take stock of his situation wins out over laying in an unknown bed like a lump.

“Give him some space Wasp, we don't really know how he's feeling.” With a great amount of effort Steve finally cracks his eyes open. The sight that greets him makes about as much sense as it had with his eyes closed. There's a robot standing directly across from him. Red and gold metal plates shift and whir seamlessly as it takes a short step towards him. A bright blue light gleams in its chest and eye sockets. Behind the robot a tiny woman with fluttering wings is grinning at him brightly. At her side a blond woman all in blue and red watches him closely; her heart as steady as her gaze. The light in the room reflects strangely across the gold star on her chest. She holds her arm out, stopping the steps of a man in black and purple. Excitable; he thinks, listening to the man's heartbeat rabbit around with his obvious energy.

He stares at them. They stare back. It's dead silent in the room, or it would be if Steve's hearing wasn't going haywire. Everything is buzzing as if it's electrified. It's not loud, just a low ever-present hum, but it's disconcerting.

“Where am I, who are you people?” Steve finally grits out. His voice sounds rusty and he coughs to clear it, startling when the robot makes his way over with surprisingly smooth steps and presses a cup of water into his hand. The cup is made out of a material so strange that Steve takes long moments to process it before hesitantly taking a sip.

“Uh. This is going to come as a shock to you but you've been...asleep for a long time Captain Rogers. We kept an eye on you while you took your little nap here. It's safe, we're on our way back to New York.” The robot's voice is a lot more human sounding than Steve expected.  Steve sets his cup down. If a robot can sound hesitant then this one does. Except. Steve tilts his head, listening hard, eyes widening when he realizes it's not a robot at all.

“How long?” Everything is strange, alien. Sleek metal, strange glowing things by his bed, a man in a metal suit that looks straight out of a science fiction novel.  “How long was I asleep?” Everyone in the room seems to wince. Steve swallows thickly.

“A long time Cap, a really really long time.” Even through the voice modulation they sound sad for him.

 

* * *

 

Seventy years. He's been in the ice for seventy years. The sheer weight of it feels heavier than the water slamming into his chest. It feels as if it happened yesterday, but It was _seventy years_ ago _._ Every person he knew, everyone that ever truly mattered to him is dead. Dead or spending their last days in a retirement home. Steve is a soldier, he was trained to understand that people dying was an option. He never was that good at losing people though, and this, he was not trained for anything like _this_.

Iron man breaks it to him gently, but it's still all he can do not to collapse into himself right there. He feels heavy, weighted down and on the verge of bursting. A point of matter pulling inwards, black holes sucking in light. He saw them in the tesseract once. He feels that dread now like a physical blow. It leaves him raw and shaking in the little bed of the medbay where he sits with his drying clothes and the shield a dead man gave him.

In his ears his heart pounds and pounds, his hands shake. There is not enough air in the room, not enough, not enough, not enough. _Always reaching, never enough._

“Hey what's, oh god, shit, okay...” Iron man is at his side, Steve starts, realizing he's been hunched over his knees staring blankly at the wall for god knows how long gulping in air with long wheezing drags.

Warm metal presses between his shoulder blades. Strange he thought it would be cold, but Iron man is warmed through. The touch grounds him in reality, and after long moments with Iron man murmuring comfort that makes no sense the world rights itself. His hearing stops fuzzing in and out, and he sits up fully, letting go of the odd hand with a glowing center he had grabbed unthinkingly.

“Strong, wow. Um.” Iron Man shakes his hand out, flexing his fingers and turning towards him. Eerie blue eyes gaze into his. He wonders if the man behind the mask is looking at him with disgust. He shouldn't have, had not meant to show so much.  “Hey it's okay. Well I mean-no it's really not-do you, do you want to talk about it? I mean uh. I'm not a licensed therapist or anything but I have ears in this tin can.”

Steve swallows thickly, shoulders hunching in.  “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”

“You're Captain America. You're allowed to have a bad day. Or a bad month, or a bad whatever. You're the biggest hero that ever lived, but that probably doesn't mean jack shit to you right now does it?” It's so odd that the person comforting him the most is encased in metal, but Steve will take what he can get right now.

“I'm sorry you had to see that.” He says quietly, shame and embarrassment twisting up the words.  Beside him Iron Man goes still. There's an electrical buzzing at the center of him. A frequency Steve has never heard. There's nothing organic about it at all, but he knows in his heart if he were to open the face-plate a flesh and blood man is inside. It's almost more comforting this way. Not having to see pity in someone else's eyes makes it slightly easier to pull himself together and pretend.

“Don't. Do not apologize for that Cap.” Iron Man says with a firm gentleness Steve doesn't know that he's earned.  Steve's eyebrows raise at the nickname though, but he doesn't mind it. It's nice, as if maybe they could be friends.  “I have them too.” Iron Man says quietly. He's not looking at Steve anymore. Metal fingers tap out an uneven rhythm on the bedsheets. A nervous gesture no doubt. Steve appreciates the show of humanity.  “It doesn't make you any less strong, or whatever you've got pinging around in that brain of yours.” Iron Man sounds so certain, he wishes he could believe him.  Steve swallows again convulsively, hands digging into his own skin as if that will force this all to make more sense.

“Without you I don't know that this team would even exist. You're one of the greatest heroes to ever live, we all want to be like you. ” Iron man continues with a note of wistfulness in his modulated voice.

“Not living up to that now am I.” The words sound torn out of him, but Iron Man continues as if he hasn't spoken at all.

“That doesn't mean you're not allowed to be human Cap. You've lost a lot. It would be stranger if you were completely okay with this.” He reaches over, clearly telgraphing his intentions to touch, and Steve allows warm metal fingers to wrap around his hands.

“What am I supposed to do? The world doesn't need me anymore.” Steve licks his dry lips. What is he compared to a team of superhumans? What is he compared to something-someone like Iron man? Maybe he is a man beneath the armor, but the armor is _extraordinary._

“We were out here because we were looking for you.” That gives him pause. Steve's head snaps up. The bed creaks with the weight of the armor. It must be reinforced-he thinks somewhat distantly.

“Why? Why would all of you come out here looking for me?”

“We need someone like you, and Mister Stark was hoping even if you weren't uh.” Iron man trails off then uncertainly. This isn't the first time the name 'Stark' has popped up. He knows they're not talking about Howard. Howard is long dead, this is the man's son. Still it's nice to know at least one tie to his old life has survived. Even if Howard Stark had never much seemed like the kind of guy that should have had kids.

“What, alive?” He deadpans, too exhausted to even react when the gold and red faceplate bobs in a hesitant nod.

“Yeah um. Well he thought that at the very least you deserved a proper burial. We didn't expect to find you alive. Which by the way, wow. Amazing, incredible. Stark is going to have an aneurysm.”

“Maybe it would have been better if it was the way Mister Stark thought.” He says with sudden feeling, unable to hide the way his voice cracks with the raw despair of it. Beside him Iron man's hands flutter as if he wants to reach out again.

“Cap. I can't. I can't even imagine what this is like for you, I just-” Iron Man sucks in a tinny hissing breath, slumping slightly in his armor.  “I'm probably really not the best person for this, I can get someone else, someone better?'

Steve shakes his head, turning to face Iron Man more fully.  “No. No one else. It's-you're doing fine, more than I could have expected from a futuristic fella like yourself. I bet you've got me all figured out.” He says almost wistfully, smiling slightly when that startles a staticky laugh out if the man. For a few moments there is only quiet between them. It's surprisingly comfortable despite how alien everything else is.

“You're a legend, you know? The world needs you. The Avengers need you. Sometimes the only thing you _can_ do to survive is to find a distraction.”

Steve doesn't feel like a legend. He feels hollowed out and heavy enough to sink back to the bottom of the ocean all at once. Maybe a distraction is all he can hope for. There is really nothing else he _can_ do.

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do.” In the humming of the ship Iron man's words are quiet, Steve almost imagines he can hear his real voice beneath the masking. He can't of course, but there's no denying a person is in the armor. Someone good who saw a soldier with shellshock and didn't go running in the other direction. He hopes there are more people like Iron Man in this new world, maybe then he won't feel so out of place.

Iron man sits with him until Steve finally gets up to walk around the ship. It's all sleek lines and symmetry. Recessed glass panels with strange glowing lights dot the halls. Iron man informs him that they're maintenance and electrical information relays. A one stop shop to run diagnostics or to see if there has been a hull breach. It really feels more like a spaceship than any submersible Steve has ever been in. As terrifying as his new reality is, Steve grew up loving science fiction. The cities of tomorrow loom large in his memory, but even those imaginings have nothing on this ship-or on the high tech battle suit encasing Iron Man.

“Mister Stark really designed all this?” He asks, unashamed that he sounds more than a little awestruck.

“Mister Stark designs pretty much all Avengers tech, including little old moi.” Iron Man sounds amused, but also a little proud.

“It's wow. It's really keen, never thought I'd see anything like it.” Beside him Iron Man sputters a little bit, but Steve ignores him, turning his head this way and that, trying to get a look at everything as they pass it.

“Keen. I can't believe he said keen.” Iron man mutters under his breath, Steve ignores that too.

“Mister Stark, he must be a real genius. I don't think even his old man could have dreamed this up.” He says, awestruck by the sheer brilliance of the technology surrounding them.  Iron man has gone stock still in the hall. Steve turns to look back at him. Are his hands shaking? Before Steve can apologize or ask if something is wrong, Iron man starts laughing.

“How are you real? Oh my God, do not say that to Stark, he'll probably combust. Unreal.” Iron man sounds so incredulous that Steve huffs, face contorting into what Bucky had once referred to as his 'Stubborn as an Ass' face.

“I meant it. This is pretty amazing. You must think it's amazing too-unless I guess if everything is like this stuff now.”

Iron man looks away, his left hand opens and closes and he shakes his head.  “No.” Iron man says slowly.  “It's not all like this. Just, maybe don't say that to Stark when you meet him. His ego's big enough.”

“I won't.” Steve lies. He will.

They keep walking after that, eventually making it to the observation deck. There he is treated to the unique experience that is Thor; the apparent Norse god of Thunder. His heart belies his name, it pounds out a rhythm so strong Steve wonders if even the others can hear it. Strange though, there are other sounds around him, like Iron Man Thor seems to bleed technology. The hammer in his hand resonates like an open sky, strange and so alien that Steve has difficulty looking at it too long.

Thor is taller than Steve, larger than life, with a jovial booming voice and eyes too wise for the youth of his face. He claps Steve on the back, praises his survival as if making a proclamation, and then offers to say a prayer for Steve's fallen. It is as jarring as it is kind.

 _Tis not easy to be a man out of time, to live in a world you both know and do not. Find comfort where you can good Captain, you will find yourself among friends here. We have all tasted battle and known it's victories as well as its crushing defeats. Mourn as you must but know that your companions would find joy in your survival-as you would for them, were they to find themselves in your place._ Wisdom is not something Steve expected to find in an alien warrior prince, but wisdom it is. He supposes someone like Thor would know a thing or two about feeling out of place. Steve carries those words with him. They're comforting even as they are bittersweet.

  

* * *

 

 When they make it back to New York there's a pitiful crew of villains assembled to meet them. Steve picks up his shield and jumps into the fray as if he never left. The Avenger's work well together, but it's obvious most of them are used to working alone or in pairs.

One suggestion turns into two, and two into Steve taking command of the team unthinkingly. Iron man bounces ideas off of him, able to see from above them as he is. He's fast, agile, and he packs a wallop Steve is duly impressed by. Just as he's impressed by Captain Marvel drop kicking one of their welcoming committee into a high arc while Hawkeye yells 'Touchdown' over the comms.

It's chaos, but it's organized chaos-and when Iron man flies down to shoot a huge beam against the shield-well, Steve just breathes deep and lets himself feel alive. It turns out that joining the Avengers may be the _only_ thing he's certain of in this world he's found himself in. That and that with all luck he will never have cause for Thor to smack him with that hammer. It looks terrifically painful.

When it's all said and done a strange multi engined plane lands in the middle of the street. The bay doors open, and a woman in a black skintight suit peers out at them.

“Widow!” Hawkeye yells, making a beeline for the aircraft.

“Get in the quinjet Hawkeye, we can gossip later.” She signs something at him and he staggers back in mock pain. Steve blinks and files that tidbit of information away, as he does all noteworthy things about teammates.

Dutifully the rest of the non-fliers trickle into the jet, buckling themselves in and chattering away about their victory. In the reflective glass of the windshield the Widow's eyes meet his curiously, but she says nothing. Beside him Wasp has buckled in despite being flight capable. She smiles brightly at him as they take off.

“You're gonna love the Mansion Captain Rogers. It's really nice, and I'm sure Tony will give you a good room.”  Jan says brightly, smiling at him wide and encouraging.

“He doesn't have to, I mean, it's his place right? I don't want to impose.” He's hesitant to just move into a veritable stranger's place, but Jan just shakes her head.

“Tony is a good guy, he'll want you to be where the team is, and you don't already have a house right?” She asks curiously.  Steve thinks back on his tiny apartment with it's drafty halls and creaky floors.  It probably doesn't even exist anymore.

“No, I don't really have anywhere to go. Still that seems kind of presumptuous.” Steve's ma' didn't tolerate the mooching type, and this seems awfully like something he would have gotten his ears boxed for entertaining.  As if reading his mind, Barton twists around in his seat, staring at Steve with a look that says he's off his rocker.

“Capitan! You are out of your mind!” Barton crows.  Steve snorts. Well so much for subtlety. He gets the feeling Hawkeye and subtlety only mix during battles.

“Tony Stark funds and houses the Avengers, any Avenger-no matter how new. It's not presumptuous, He will welcome you Captain Rogers. Call me Natasha by the way, callsign Black Widow.” She's steady, calm as the placid glass of a deep ocean.  Steve likes her immediatly.  He nods, feeling a little out of his depth not being able to get up and shake her hand, but he's not quite certain how this plane handles. That and being airborne so soon after crashing into the Arctic is doing nothing for his already shot nerves.

“Good to meet you Widow. Is there anything I should know about Mister Stark-since I'm gonna be staying in his house and all.” He ventures hesitantly.  Wasp raises her hand, waving it around before breaking into rapid fire speech.

“Do _not_ compare him to his dad whatever you do. Just don't do it.” She says with such finality that Steve adds several red underlines to the observation on his mental checklist.

“Don't talk to him before coffee, he's not human.” Clint adds from where he's picking at his nails with an arrow.

“Oh yeah, good one, definitely do not interrupt coffee time. Also watch your step, he falls asleep in weird places.” It's obvious Jan considers Mister Stark a friend, but there doesn't seem to be anything but platonic affection there.

“Like a cat.” Widow finishes, her smile looks fond from where he's sitting.

“You all really seem to like him, and he built the suit, why isn't _he_ an Avenger?” Beside him Jan slumps. The expression on her face is so glum Steve wants to apologize for whatever he has said to put it there.

“He has a heart condition, I don't know the full story, but he can't. Anything else is not really my place to say.” Wasp has gone from looking glum to downright distraught. Now Steve really _does_ feel like a heel. Bucky always did say he had a way with words. Too bad the serum couldn't have fixed that like it had his asthma.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you.” Steve says hurriedly. He never could handle it when women cried, and he doubts he could handle it now. With the way he's feeling it might set him off too, and that would just be embarrassing.

“Ah my friends you are forgetting one very important thing.” The booming voice is startling, and Steve jumps, having forgotten the comm in his ear. Thor is very loud. Steve takes the little speaker off, holding it in his hand.  “Anthony is quite lovely, were it not for the love I bear my fair Jane, I would surely seek his company. If he would have me of course.” Thor obviously has no qualms about speaking his mind.  Steve stares at his communicator as if it's grown a few heads and started rampaging around Brooklyn. Then he stares around the quinjet. None of the Avengers look disturbed, they don't even look _surprised_.

As if from far away he hears Iron Man's _Oh my god Thor, Really?_ But he doesn't sound upset, just amused.

''Whatever Thor, you know his heart is pledged to Rhodes.” Clint needles.

“What-” Steve croaks, finally finding his voice. Natasha glances at him sharply, and spits something at Clint in Russian.  “It's...that's _allowed_ now?” Steve notices the nervous looks around him, and he realizes his error.  “People had to hide it before. Everyone knew it happened, but no one just talked about it like that.” Steve takes a deep breath. It's allowed now, it's okay. He can't bring himself to look out at the city below them. It's too different, too alien. Old landmarks are still there, but it's almost unrecognizable to the New York City he left behind.

“Yeah Cap, there's still jerks out there who make it their business to be assholes, and there's still a lot that needs to change-but everyone can get married now, it's not illegal anymore.” Jan is speaking softly, as if she's afraid he'll spook and go haring out of the jet. Steve raises his eyes to look down at this city. New parts and old blend together down below them. Steve lets himself look.

“A long time ago I had a friend. He loved men and he always had to hide it. I wish he'd lived to see this.” He's not ready yet to tell them about himself, but just revealing that feels momentous. Jan's hand on his is solid and warm, she smiles at him and it's full of understanding.

They land shortly after that. The mansion is one of the biggest Steve has ever seen. It's opulent and more like a palace than a home. Technology is everywhere. He can hear the subtle hum of it in the walls, even in the floor. It's terrifying and fascinating all in one. Steve is struck by the enormity of all he has to see, all he has to learn. Daunting doesn't seem a powerful enough word. It's no wonder the Avengers who chose to do so live here. It seems very lonely to live in such a place alone. He wonders if Mister Stark did before the Avengers came along.

As if summoned by his train of thought they turn a corner and a man is waiting for them in the entryway to a smaller more comfortable looking sitting room than some of the others they have already passed.

He's around Steve's age, wearing a perfectly pressed charcoal gray suit. The jacket is tossed across one of the couches haphazardly. His hair is dark and styled immaculately. Dark lashes frame honey colored eyes, he's shorter than Steve, smaller framed but not thin, with a fastidiously trimmed van dyke. _Oh_ thinks Steve with an impending sense of dread. Oh _no._

“Captain America, or do you prefer Captain Rogers? I'm Tony Stark, it's an honor to meet you.” Stark speaks, oblivious to Steve's mounting inner turmoil. Steve starts upon having realized he's staring-probably rudely-and offers his hand.

“Steve is fine, I'm living in your house, seems funny to have you call me that.” He's proud of how steady his voice sounds, it's not everyday a guy that looks like a matinee idol welcomes you into his home.  Stark beams at him, seemingly unconcerned by the thought of having a stranger move into his place. No matter how huge the mansion is, it's still an awfully swell thing for him to do.

There is something odd though. This close most people's heartbeats are audible to him, but Mister Stark's seems to be missing. He sounds staticky almost, like the buzz of power-lines, or the faint fuzz of electrical activity he can feel emanating off the tiny sleek phone the man presses into his hand upon leading him to what is to become his new room. _Technology_ he thinks. Tony Stark is drenched in technology, maybe that's why he can't hear his heart.

After Stark leaves Steve sits on his bed heavily. The room is bigger than anything he's ever had. Bigger than his apartment in Brooklyn. He almost wants to call mister Stark back and ask him if there are any smaller rooms in the mansion-this just feels excessive.

His contemplation of the odd little device Stark had called a phone is interrupted by a hesitant knocking at the door. When he opens it Stark is there, he looks nervous and sheepish. Steve is surprised a man like Tony Stark can even feel something like anxious. Captain's of industry are usually terribly sure of themselves. Here with it being just the two of them, Steve is struck with the sudden urge to draw the bright gleam of his eyes. Steve blinks, stepping back to let him into the room, feeling suddenly oafish in the waning light of dusk.

“Sorry, I just realized I forgot to tell you. If you need anything I'm just down the hall-to the right across from you.” He's speaking quickly, tapping away at a clear pane of what looks like glass, but is covered in long scrolling threads of incomprehensible math.  “Scratch that, to be fair the likelihood of me actually being in my room is kind of ridiculously low. If you need me talk to Jay or Iron Man they always know how to find me.” He slides his fingertips over the glass and a bright blue glowing shape pops out. Stark eyes it critically. Steve is fascinated.

“Can I-” He starts.  Stark blinks, looking over at where Steve is reaching towards the little sphere of light.

“Oh sure, here.” He passes over the piece of glass.  “Just hold your hand out like-yeah. Perfect. Jay run safemode.”

“This is the coolest thing that's ever happened to me, I just want you to know. Ten year old me is totally losing his shit.”  Stark sounds just a little bit giddy.  It's kind of adorable.  Steve hums, rolling the light around in his hand.

“Ten year old me agrees, this is like something right out of a dimestore novel.” When Steve looks up, Stark is looking wide-eyed. The expression softens his features. Steve has to agree with Thor, the man is really _lovely_.  “Who's Jay? You said to talk to him if I need to find you, but you said his name just now-” He asks, curiosity winning out over staring at Stark in dumbfounded silence.  Stark smiles, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

“Jay, say hello.” To Steve's shock the piece of glass starts talking. Steve nearly drops it, but with his reflexes it looks more like his hand just twitched.

“Greetings Captain Rogers, if you should ever need my assistance I can be found in all the common living areas as well as Mister Stark's workshop and the garage. Simply speak to me and I will offer what I can.” Steve thinks his eyes might just pop right out of his head.

“Jay is JARVIS, he's an AI-an artificial intelligence, but he's more alive than any of the corporate brass I've been forced to make nice with over the years. Jay is a work of art. He's on your phone too if you need him, or well, he can be if you call to him. Not important. Skynet, big brother he is not, he's my sweet baby my smartest child-”

“Thank you sir, shall I break out the champagne and the cigars? I'm sure my baby shower is long overdue.” That startles a laugh out of both of them. Steve stares down at the glass in amazement.

“He's also kind of an asshole, but the apple don't fall far from the tree. Anyway! Um.” Stark falters. Steve hands him back the tablet carefully, aware that he's just been fiddling with the molecular structure of something most likely highly flammable. 

“Thanks. If you're hungry I think Carol might be roasting something.” Steve is almost always hungry now, but food just doesn't seem appealing. Still he nods encouragingly, letting Stark back out into the hallway.  “I'm happy you decided the stay here.” Stark says, as if Steve's doing him a favor by staying in his house. Steve can't figure him out at all.

“And yeah, shutting up now and leaving. Bye, take care, call me if you need me. I'll have more stuff for you later.”

“Thank you Mister Stark, that's really. Just thanks for everything.” He rakes a hand through his hair self consciously, but Stark waves the thanks off, staring fixedly at the glowing light once again in his hand. He takes off after that, spinning equations and talking to JARVIS at a rate so fast all Steve understands is that he doesn't understand it.

In his absence the room is quiet. Too quiet. _Sometimes all you can do to survive is to find a distraction_. Iron man's words filter back to him as he catches sight of the moon outside his window. Steve heads to the gym. He doesn't sleep that night, too afraid he'll wake and another seventy years will have passed.

The next night Iron man comes down to spar with him. It's exhilarating to be able to toss someone around and not really worry about hurting them. Within an hour they've attracted other Avengers who each take turns tumbling around the room with him. It's hours before they all leave, but Steve finally sleeps. JARVIS' _Goodnight Captain Rogers_ is almost too quiet for even him to hear, but it's a comforting thought that follows him into his dreams.

 

 


	3. And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow’s eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.

Three weeks and just as many missions as a team later it's not the cake walk of their first few battles together. Victor Von Doom is a menace, a menace who insists on being called Doctor Doom. Steve wants to punch him in the face just on principle for coming up with that name. Punching him in the face is rapidly downgraded on the list of acceptable punishments when Doom calls a brass band's worth of giant robots to himself and perches atop one like the world's ugliest Jiminy Cricket.

“I can't believe we have to fight him again!” Hawkeye yells from his perch atop a building. He's firing off electrified arrows left and right with impressive precision.

“Someone please at least kick him in the balls this time.” Iron man's modulated voice comes over the comms as Captain Marvel rips the arm from the robot currently engaging her. JARVIS helpfully plays a cheerful little victory ditty over the team line for her in response.

“Not it.” She calls, spinning the arm around and using it to send the Doom-Bot crashing to the ground. Somehow her short-spiky blond hair remains perfectly styled. Steve wonders if that's one of her superpowers too.

Falcon, Wasp, and Thor remain airborne, calling out locations and dropping down where Steve sends them. Iron Man is on Steve's unshielded left putting on a laser light show and shooting off repulsor blasts. A lucky shot earlier rent a hole in Steve's uniform. Iron man seems to have taken that as a personal affront and has been muttering on and off about flimsy material and risk taking behavior. Steve doesn't think the man is even aware of his own continuous ranting. Nonetheless Steve appreciates the cover as well as the concern.

Everything is going well-until it's not. One of the Doombots has found a bus. It tears it in half as easily as wet cardboard. The scent of smoke and gasoline so strong it almost eclipses the scream of metal tearing apart. Even that however is not so loud in Steve's ears as the screams of civilians trapped inside. There is no time to react when the bus is flung toward him with a velocity Steve doubts he will survive. He makes a split second decision, to jump out of the way means certain death for the people inside. Staying gives him the chance to use the shield to slow the spinning pieces of bus down. _Not enough, not enough, not enough_. His mind chants in recrimination. He braces his feet, hefts the shield up.

Red. Red and gold in front of him. Gleaming like a diamond cut ruby. Iron Man catches both sides of the bus hard-Turning the momentum into a spin around Steve worthy of a dancer. Sparks shoot up off the pavement when the broken edges of the bus hit the ground, but the people inside are still screaming. Steve has a moment to feel the gut clenching feeling of relief. Screaming people are living people after all.

“Cap get out of the-” Iron Man sets the segments of the bus down, hands coming up, but he is too slow. Iron Man catches a Doombot to the chest with enough force to send him rolling backward.

“Shellhead, Shellhead talk to me!” The Doombot rears up, stomping on Iron Man's chest. Friction and pressure conspire to throw molten sparks all over the pavement. The armor holds, but it dents inward. Even through the voice modulation, Steve hears the sound of a wheeze.

He sees red.

He hits the robot with everything in him. If Steve had been faster, if he had been stronger-his self flagellating train of thought is interrupted as Iron Man drags himself to his feet. Steve sees him out of the corner of his eye as he works at tearing the bots head off with his bare hands.

“Oh god, why is it always with-” Iron man groans over the comms, shooting a focused repulsor blast into the metal monstrosity Steve is currently making into scrap.  “-the stomping, and the chest ugh.” He finishes, shooting up to catch Steve in a secure hold about the waist while the bot goes down in a shower of fried circuitry. They land atop a building in a skidding halt. Below them smoke rises from downed Doombots. He almost smiles upon seeing Thor hitting Doctor Doom with his hammer somewhere highly uncomfortable. Almost.

Iron man goes down to a knee, arm wrapped protectively around his own chest. Steve is at his side in an instant, but Iron man flaps a quelling hand in his direction.

“Don't. Need space. Uh. _Shit_.” Gone is the usual teasing tone of voice. For the barest moment Steve hears harsh panicked breathing over the comms, and then it goes quiet-the line silenced.

“Mister Stark needs to see to Iron Man's injuries. I will be taking control of the suit in order to fly him back to the mansion barring further need for assistance. It seems you have all in hand here Captain Rogers.” JARVIS' voice is smooth and crisp. The armor rises jerkily, joints locking into Iron Man's characteristic flight pose.

“Yeah, take care of him. No debrief okay Shellhead. Just rest.” No answer comes from inside the suit. If JARVIS is taking control it must be bad, but Steve knows a secret when he sees one. Still, concern ties his stomach into knots even as Doom is rounded up and taken into custody.

That worry follows him all through the ensuing cleanup and speaking with the city authorities. If this was any other teammate he would have insisted on a hospital visit. Iron Man's dedication to his secret identity makes that incredibly difficult. From what the others tell him he's been at the whole superhero business for years already. Objectively Steve knows he can't force his new friend to seek professional medical attention, but he still worries. He hopes Mister Stark's medical technology is as miraculous as everything else he makes.

 

* * *

 

 Hours later the team congregates around a wide conference table discussing everything that went wrong as well as everything that did work. Jan is in the middle of illustrating the solid kick she landed on Doctor Doom's pointy chin when Iron man walks in wearing an armor Steve has yet to see.

“Hey bucket-head shouldn't you be resting?” Clint says, pointedly gesturing to their teammate with what's possibly one of the largest sandwiches he's ever seen.

“I'm fine. The injuries were superficial. I am here to take notes.” Across the table Steve sees the briefest flash of concern go across Natasha's face.

Strange. Steve thinks as iron man produces a small notepad made out of actual paper. His movements are jerkier than usual, and his words are more clipped even if the voice is the same. When Clint flicks a paper football right between his glowing eyes there is no ensuing battle. Iron Man merely takes his seat, grabbing a pen from the cup in the center of the table.

“Uh so _someone's_ crabby. Anyway _._ As I was _saying_ before we were so rudely interrupted by tin man over there. There I was, hanging from a grappling hook off the side of the building-” Hawkeye spreads his hands out, clearly gearing up for a dramatic storytelling session.

“What a surprise. You jumped off a building.” Comes Carol's droll response. Jan boos. Natasha looks like she's about five seconds away from filing her nails contemptuously. Clint is still undeterred.

Steve sits back in his chair listening to the team banter back and forth. Iron Man-usually so quick to join in and offer commentary-is curiously silent throughout the whole debrief. It's disconcerting to say the least. When it's all said and done Steve pulls him aside to thank him for the save with the bus-full of people.

“I'm sorry, and thank you.” He says, wishing he could really be saying this to Iron Man's face and not the expressionless faceplate.

Iron man tilts his head curiously. “For what are you apologizing exactly?”

“If you hadn't a been there-if I had been faster you wouldn't have gotten hurt.” It seems there's always another between him and a killing blow-or the side of a cliff. For a moment when Iron Man went down Steve had thought the worst. That possibility is still there, just barely simmering in the back of his mind. Steve knows without a doubt there will be nightmares tonight.

“Or if I had not been precisely where I was there is a very high possibility that you would be far more grievously injured than the few surface injuries I received. Or worse, dead. Do not be so quick to throw away your life.” Iron Man's voice is even, but Steve feels something hot burn in his chest.

“Don't. Do not sacrifice yourself for me. If ever there's a choice between you and me Shellhead, you better not choose me.” In the light of the hall Steve feels the eyeslits boring into him like a physical touch. Iron Man is silent for a moment before speaking again.

“I am afraid, Captain, that this is not your decision to make-and correct me if I am wrong, but I believe you would do the same for me.” There's really nothing Steve can say to that while still remaining truthful. Iron man nods once, taking that for the admission of truth it is. A heavy gauntleted hand reaches out and squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

It's not until Iron Man's heavy steps recede down the hall that Steve realizes something.

The suit had been _empty._

So wrapped up is he in what that could possibly mean for the man inside the suit-how hurt is he? Where is he? Is there anything the rest of the team can do to help? Who is controlling the suit if Iron Man is not in it?-that he almost misses the figure of someone in the sitting room just off the hall.

It's a smaller room, all done up in light colors and muted florals. The curtains are drawn on the windows, casting long shadows across a stately grand piano. Atop the fireplace a large vase full of pink carnations dotted through with pale Queen Anne's Lace lends the room a gentle floral scent. Steve wonders who goes out to buy the flowers, they're obviously fresh.

A low elegantly appointed couch offers a cream colored backdrop to the man curled up against it. Three glass tablets covered in scrolling data are tossed haphazardly on the floor. It looks like Mister Stark has fallen asleep in the middle of working on something. Steve blinks down at one of the slim pieces of glass, noting something that looks to be the sketched out lines of Steve's uniform. The rest of the tablets are incomprehensible, but that's not what has Steve's attention.

Stark is curled in on himself, head tucked against his knees hiding his face from view. His right arm curves under a thick sweatshirt, pressing somewhere along his chest. Steve can just make out a large M and a T. He remembers Jan saying in passing that Mister Stark had gone to college MIT and wonders if this is an old souvenir of the place. It looks much more comfortable than the snappy suits Steve has caught himself staring at a little too closely. He steps closer, careful to avoid the expensive technology on the floor.

In the quiet of the room Stark's breathing is underlain by a current of strain. The ever present hum around him is still there, but his breathing is louder. It sounds painful. Steve remembers being a scrawny asthmatic kid and not being able to breathe. Stark may not be an asthmatic, but he's certainly not breathing like a healthy fella, and falling asleep on the floor can only lead to a worse day when he does wake up.

Carefully he reaches out, intent on what-he doesn't know. All he can think of is picking Stark up and getting him into a bed instead of wheezing quietly on the floor. Before that idea can become action, a soft voice pipes up from one of the tablets.

“Captain Rogers, I would ask you to please be careful.” In the silence of the room JARVIS' speech is jarring.  Steve stops, hands stilling like he's been caught by his ma up to no good.

“JARVIS? I'm sorry. I don't mean any harm, just looks uncomfortable.” There's a silence as if the AI is considering his intentions, and then he speaks again.

“Mister Stark does not react well to certain stimuli-and today has been trying for his peace of mind.” JARVIS says evenly.  Steve thinks back on Iron Man's injuries. Stark must be worried about his bodyguard. Surely the pair of them are friends?

“Yeah I bet, but he shouldn't sleep here, he's gonna wake up with one heck of a crick in his neck. Why's he sleeping on the floor and not the couch anyway?” Steve says nothing of the labored breathing, he hadn't liked it when people had pointed it out to him back before the serum-he doubts Mister Stark would appreciate the reminder, even if he's talking to JARVIS right now and not the man himself. He gets the feeling the AI talks to his creator a lot.

“Mister Stark dislikes falling asleep on couches alone. It is ah..a quirk.” There's a story here, probably a painful one. JARVIS won't tell even if he asks, Steve knows this with utmost certainty. Secrets upon secrets.

“Okay, got it, you're not gonna tell me. Still, I'd like to help him get to a bed.” Steve tries not to think of that as an innuendo. It's a good thing Clint is not around to hear him saying stuff like that.

“Very well, but you must listen closely. I am placing a great deal of trust in you Captain Rogers.” JARVIS begins crisply, but there is an unspoken warning there too.  Steve feels like he's getting a very high tech shovel talk, but he nods all the same.  “Call to him first before even attempting to touch. Speak with him as you move him. No sudden movements. When you place him in his room, the lights will stay on. If he becomes agitated-Set. Him. Down.” The words are clear, concise, but Steve's not stupid. JARVIS is worried.

“Yes sir, I promise I'll be careful. I'm sure Mister Stark appreciates having you to smack us around.”

“Only if need be, now if you will-” Jarvis says primly. Steve smiles, crouching down next to Stark at a good distance if he throws a punch. He recognizes the careful wording of JARVIS' instructions for what they are. Men back in the war coming back hollow eyed and jumping at shadows could have benefited form having their own JARVIS around. He doesn't doubt that Mister Stark could land a solid punch.  He is smaller than Steve, but he's fit, compact and well muscled with a mean right hook if the stories about his boxing training are to be believed. Steve has seen him carting around enough heavy Avengers gear to know he's certainly no slouch. It just makes him want to be even more careful. JARVIS is trusting him with a lot.

“Mister Stark.” He starts.

“Call him Tony when you move him. It is familiar.” JARVIS suggests.  Steve nods, clearing his throat and trying again.

“Uh, Tony, Tony I'm just helping you get to bed okay?” A sleepy confused sound meets his coaxing words. The arm Tony has wrapped around himself tightens reflexively, and Steve reaches out to touch his shoulder, only to draw back when a flinch meets his touch.

“Carefully, again.” Jarvis murmurs encouragingly, and Steve repeats his approach, smiling when Tony leans into his touch this time instead of away.

“You need to sleep in a real bed Tony, C'mon this can't be comfortable.” Slowly he gets an arm around Tony's shoulders, pausing there until he feels Tony relax against him. Warm, Tony is warm. He smells of metal, traces of expensive cologne, and an odd minty scent Steve is unable to place.  “I'm going to put my other arm under your legs now okay.”  He whispers.  Tony doesn't respond save to tuck his head against Steve's chest as if seeking warmth. Steve takes that as encouragement, looping his arm beneath Tony's knees and then getting his feet under himself to stand.

The movement seems to stir the man in his arms, Tony makes a quiet sound-a soft hiss of discomfort, as if being lifted is jostling him painfully. Steve tucks him closer against his body, careful not to bump him against the doorway upon exiting the room.

He's so focused on getting Tony to his room that he almost misses the soft sleep slurred words Tony mumbles into his chest. “Wow muscley.” Steve goes a little pink in the face as he feels a clumsy hand pat at his chest tiredly.

The hand rubs there for a long quiet moment before stilling-as if registering suddenly that he's being carried. Tony's head comes up. Wide terrified eyes meet his, and Tony leans back in his arms, bracing his hands against Steve's shoulders. It takes a surprising amount of strength not to fumble his hold.

“Wha-”

“Shh, it's just me, just getting you to your room, it's okay. You're safe.” Steve hopes he's doing alright at being non threatening, the last thing he wants to do is upset him.  Tony stares at him searchingly for a moment; coppery eyes glassy and wild. Steve recognizes that look and wishes he didn't. Whatever Tony sees in his face seems to calm him however. He slumps in Steve's hold, leaning his head on a broad shoulder and allowing his eyes to slide shut again.

“Kay. Bed yes, sounds-” He yawns, jaw cracking with the force of it. Steve finds it oddly endearing.  “sounds nice mhmm.” Then he's asleep again, soft breaths that catch at the end pooling in the space between them.

It takes just moments after that to reach Tony's room. The door helpfully pops open when he stands in front of it. Proof positive that JARVIS has been watching their progress the entire time. It's comforting to Steve. The AI certainly would have spoken up if he was doing something wrong.

Tony's room is both what he expected and not. Technology is everywhere. Much like the ever present humming coming from Tony's chest, the whole room is filled with interesting things that Steve can't even begin to figure out the use of. The furniture does not seem like something tony would pick out however. The headboard is a huge carved panel of wood. Two nightstands sit off to the sides. Steve expected more minimalist furnishings, but he supposes Tony could not have designed all the spaces in the house.

“I'm going to put you on your bed now.” Steve leans down to strip the covers back, noting the crease atop the sheets. It looks like someone has been sitting at the edge of the bed. On the nightstand a large glass container full of minty smelling ointment is open, spilling that same cool scent that clings to Tony into the room. Steve wonders what it is, but concentrates on slowly lowering his cargo down onto a soft sheets that keep traces of Tony's cologne.  "There, I've got you.” He murmurs, brushing Tony's hair back from his face and making sure his neck is not at an uncomfortable angle on his pillows. Tony just sighs, nuzzling into Steve's hand as if he's enjoying the touch.

All too soon Tony turns away, arm sliding back under his sweatshirt anew. His hand makes an indistinct lump below the fabric, pressing tightly to his chest. He curls inwards, sweatshirt riding up to expose the edge of his hip, the beginning of his ribs. Steve tries not to look, but his eyes snap to the skin upon seeing something odd.

Bruising. Tony Is bruised all over. These are not small accidental bruises from bumping into things unthinkingly. These are deep, painful looking. Purples and blacks mottling otherwise smooth skin-save for a few tiny white scars peeking out from the edge of the sweater.

He wants to pull Tony's shirt up-see how bad it is and what injuries lie below soft worn fabric. That would be a grievous invasion of his privacy however, and Steve knows Tony would have every reason to hate him for it. With a start he realizes he's been clenching his jaw hard enough to see stars. He opens his mouth, working the joint and sighing.

How can Tony let his bodyguard go off when something is clearly going on in his life? While Tony is busy making things for the team, taking care of them, opening his very home to them. Steve wonders who is taking care of Tony in return. What he _really_ wants to know though is _who_ gave Tony those injuries.

Steve would like to know that _very_ much.

With a sigh of resignation he pulls the covers up, tucking them around Tony and pressing a comforting hand to his shoulder. Backtracking to the sitting room he gathers up the tablets left there to bring them into Tony's room. No telling what sort of confidential stuff is on those things.

“You have questions I take it.” JARVIS says suddenly, as if reading his thoughts, and Steve startles. Sometimes he forgets that the AI is always awake.

“Is he-that was a lot of bruising.”

“It is not my place to say Captain Rogers. If you wish to know you will have to ask Mister Stark yourself.” JARVIS sounds vaguely regretful, but obviously not enough to tell him what he really wants to know.  Steve slumps.

“I get the feeling he's not going to tell me is he?” He concedes.  JARVIS hums in agreement, opening the door for him when he heads back out into the hall. JARVIS continues to speak to him in the hallway. Steve sometimes feels like he's talking to a ghost, JARVIS' voice follows him just as surely as an invisible man keeping step at his side.

“You would be correct, but I admire your spirit.” JARVIS' answer sparks with a current of dry amusement.  Steve thinks he might be getting sassed. He's honestly kind of delighted by the thought. It's nice to be treated like just a normal guy.

It's quiet for a little while between them. Steve has a lot on his mind. He's not too distracted however to hear JARVIS' quiet _Thank you Captain._ If it makes something fiercely protective burn hot inside his chest, he's the only one that has to know it.

That night when he finally drags himself into his room the events of the day are almost enough to distract him from the vast empty space of the bed. Logically he knows the room temperature sits at a comfortable level. Logically he knows with the serum there is no real reason for him to be cold, but cold he is. Holding a warm sleepy person in his arms seems to have broken the dam, and he wants, wants _so badly_ for someone to sit with him in this huge empty room. There's ice behind his eyes when he squeezes them shut, burying his face in the cool cotton of his pillow.

“You are shivering Captain.”  Steve's eyes snap open at JARVIS' soft words.  “Would you like me to raise the temperature?”

“Are you talking to me from my phone?” He croaks, voice thick with the swell of emotion held back.

“Yes, although I can desist if you prefer.” JARVIS sounds almost hesitant, as if the idea doesn't appeal to him at all. Steve finds he dislikes the notion of not having JARVIS around even more. He knows the AI isn't a flesh and blood person, but he's certainly capable of compassion. Steve doesn't think anything but the feeling of love could explain how carefully the AI led him through getting his creator into a bed. Maybe it's all a program, code, but JARVIS really seems to _care_ about everyone in the house, and Steve is more grateful for that than he can put into words.

“No, no kinda like the thought of someone looking out for me. Can you um. Can you” he thinks back on some of the lingo Mister Stark has used around him. “Can you uh..install yourself in here, in my room that is?

“Of course, I am compatible with all rooms in the mansion, but do not upload myself into private quarters unless asked.”

“Then yeah, yeah I'd like for you to do that. Warmer too if you could please.” The sound and the smell of the heater cutting on answers his request. The lighting changes as well, going from pitch black to the sort of warm tone Steve remembers filtering in through his thin curtains in a ratty little apartment in Brooklyn.  “Thanks JARVIS, that. That helps. Thank you.” After that it's a little easier to fall asleep, and the dreams aren't as cold. He wakes up with the vaguest impressions of dreaming of wide brown eyes, and the smell of mint and expensive cologne, but it's gone before he can truly register it.

 


	4. To the Edge of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Tony's perspective-to avoid confusion.
> 
> A few warnings here for discussions of domestic/intimate partner abuse. It's nothing graphic, but it comes up.

Tony is warm when he wakes up. The smooth coolness of a silk encased pillow cradles his face where he has turned into it. The heavy weight of cover atop him makes him snuggle deeper into the comfort of his bed. It's almost enough to distract him from the crushing pain in his chest, and the too tight feeling in his lungs. Everything hurts. Tony really regrets waking up. He had been having such a pleasant dream too. Something about Captain America picking him up and oh so gently carrying him into bed. Tony pauses, suddenly registering that yes, he really is in his room, and no, he is no longer in what was once his mother's favorite sitting room.

“J-Jurvisss” He slurs, dragging his hand out from beneath warm layers of sweatshirt and gingerly rolling himself over. A bad decision, if the pain it knocks through his bruised ribs is anything to go by.

“Sir, would you like me to prepare your pain medication?” JARVIS is always so helpful, even when he's being a snarky asshole, still, Tony groans, pushing himself up to sit with a grimace.

“No. No, not bad enough for that.” His mouth feels dry and disgusting. Water would be nice, but water means getting up out of bed. Tony squints over at the door to the bathroom where he knows there is a full pitcher.  “Gonna build a drone to bring me water.” He mutters, mentally counting to ten before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Very good sir, shall I begin drawing up drafts?”

“Aw fuck.” Moving just seems to be self punishment at this point. Tony wraps his arm around his chest, hunching over his knees and trying to breathe. Turns out getting your chest stomped on when your lung function is already compromised makes for some very un-fun times. Tony is uncomfortably familiar with the sensation, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

“Wait.” Tony blinks in confusion at the three tablets stacked oh so neatly next to the bed. “Wait, what the fuck?”

“Sir?” JARVIS almost sounds like he's waiting for something.

“How did I get here? The last thing I remember was looking at the atrocious and unacceptable material Cap's uniform was made out of. I can't believe he's fighting in fucking _tights_.” He's interrupted from the beginnings of what would be a truly impressive rant by JARVIS making the sort of throat clearing sound he reserves for special occasions.

“Sir, Captain Rogers came across you in the sitting room and became concerned for your comfort.” _What._

“He requested my assistance in transporting you to your bed. If I might say so it was quite, as you put it-It was sweet.” _Wait what?_ His mind seems to be stuck in a loop of confusion.

Captain America carrying him to bed? Tony is torn. On the one hand, wow, childhood fantasy come true. On the other hand, Tony does not do well with people touching him while he sleeps. That is an understatement. Thor tried to move him once, and he'd apparently gotten an elbow to the soft parts. Tony winces.

“Oh god. JARVIS, tell me I didn't kick Captain America in the nads. I'll have to move back to the Malibu house. Fuck.” He likes it here in the Avengers mansion, but if he's given Steve the old Tony Stark PTSD special he's not going to be able to look the man in the face. He supposes that's what hanging around as Iron Man is for. They won't even know he's here.

“You did no such thing. You were quite cuddly in fact.” JARVIS sounds so pleased that his world is ending.  Tony is going to scream.

“Oh my god what!” He yells, unable to stop himself. JARVIS' silence is smug and incriminating. Yelling as it turns out was a bad idea. It brings into awareness once more that his chest feels like it's doing a good impression of a pressure cooker.

Tony throws his hand out, snagging the pot of minty ointment from the side table frantically. It's cool to the touch, numbing his fingers even as he shoves a hand under his sweatshirt to rub the stuff all over his bruises. The effect is immediate, some of the pain and tenderness eases, allowing him to sit up fully again. It doesn't do much for the deep bruising, but it's just enough relief to avoid the heavy pain medication he loathes so much. Being out of it used to be a goal, now it's a liability.

“JARVIS, play footage.”

JARVIS wisely says nothing, merely projecting a large screen. On it Tony is where he remembers falling asleep. It stays like that for a while before a shadow falls across the doorway, and Tony is treated to the surreality of Captain America carrying him to bed with all the care one might expect from a lover.

Abruptly he realizes he's been holding his breath when the Cap on the screen stares at him intensely after setting him on the bed. He looks wow, really angry. Not angry at Tony though, just determined and pissed off. Tony wonders what set him off. “I didn't try to fight him.” He says wonderingly

“You became briefly agitated, but seemed content to be carried soon after.” JARVIS has a similar tone to someone trying to talk a treed cat down.  It would be kind of funny if he wasn't the one needing to be coaxed out of the metaphorical tree.  Tony blinks, hand unconsciously going to rest over the reactor.

How long has it been since he has allowed anyone to touch him? Really touch him? Not casual pats on the shoulder or a handshake. Tony closes his eyes, trying to imagine what it felt like to be wrapped up in Steve's arms. Even on the screen it looked nice. Tony shakes his head free of the images, dismissing the screen now playing footage of him passed out dead to the world. There's no use in dwelling on it, it's never going to happen again.

With a sigh he calls the armor to him, feeling it form around him is like greeting an old friend. It makes it much easier to make it to the bathroom too-JARVIS helpfully taking over the heavier aspects of the lifting and all but puppeting his sore body around. He wonders if it would be weird to work on Stark Industries projects while in the suit. Whatever, it's his workshop, no one is going to see it and blackout mode is A Thing.

 

* * *

 

Forty minutes and a shower later he's in the kitchen in the armor when Steve comes walking in wearing his Determined Face. Tony sucks on the smoothie in his hand with even more concentration. It squeaks against the mouthslit annoyingly, but that doesn't deter Cap and his mad on from getting closer.

“Iron Man I need to talk to you.” Captain America is using his 'this is official important business' voice.  Tony very carefully extricates the straw from his mouth and sets it, and his smoothie on the counter.

“Okay Cap, what's eating you? Did you just find out about the Dodgers?” Tony asks, the urge to make a run for it surfacing when Steve's eyes narrow.

“What _about_ the Dodgers?” Uh oh.

“Nothing, nothing, they're still in merry old Brooklyn ha.ha. Nothing to see here, now whassa matter, tell old Shellhead all about it.” He babbles, eager to change the subject as quickly as possible; Steve has enough things to be upset about without adding the loss of his home team.  He gets a suspicious glare for his efforts, but Steve seems to have bigger fish to fry.

“First off, how are you feeling, that was a heck of a hit you took. Are you alright?” The puppy eyes are really killer. Tony is very happy for the faceplate because in all likelihood his face probably just did something really undignified.

“I'm fine, just superficial stuff, nothing a few days of being lazy won't fix.” He lies. Steve stares at him as if he knows it's a lie, but blessedly he doesn't call him on it.

“I'm glad you're okay, you worried me there for a second. You're my friend, I don't like the thought of you being hurt.” Tony swallows convulsively. Steve views Iron Man as a _friend_. Captain America!!!!! Exclamation points _very_ intentional-views Iron man as his friend. Tony turns off his speakers and turns on his sound dampeners so he can have his little nerdgasm in peace. No one needs to hear that.

“Same goes for you friend-o, no getting hurt.” God, Tony feels that if he gets any more awkward he's going to start slapping Steve's back companionably and talking about the weather. Miraculously though, Steve seems to take this in stride.

“If you can answer, I'd like to ask you a few things about Mister Stark.” Oh. Oh _shit._ The determined face is back. Tony wonders how weird it would be if he just jettisoned himself out the window right this moment.

“Sure Cap, what's got you all-” he gestures at Steve's rigid posture expansively. “angry Cap faced?” Steve frowns, a little dent forming between his brows as he does.

“Yesterday I ah..helped Mister Stark to bed and I noticed something.” Tony affects a casual stance to try and hide the fact that a wave of panic just rolled up and tried to strangle him. It's unsurprisingly  _really_ difficult to try to be casual in a full suit of armor, but Tony thinks he's pulling it off.

“Oh yee-ah, what was that?” Nice save Iron Man, you totally don't sound like you have one foot in the grave.  He thinks, more than a little glumly.

“Does Mister Stark have a-” Steve seems to think about how to word the question. It gives Tony enough time to come up with a million horrible scenarios. Steve has found out what a horrible person Tony Stark is, Steve saw his sex tapes, Steve wants him to build a time machine. The possibilities are endless.

“a partner?” Well, that was unexpected.

“Why Cap, you in the market for a billionaire?” He asks, truly curious as to where this conversation is going. Steve looks a little flushed, but he bulls on despite that.

“He had...bruises. Lots of 'em. I got to thinking-who could do something like that to a guy like Mister Stark and not have it be news? Listen, he probably wouldn't let you go after 'em, but I'm not employed by Stark Industries. I could go talk to whoever it is.” The way Steve says 'talk' Tony gets the feeling he means 'punch in the face repeatedly', or maybe 'tear their arms of and beat them with said arms'. It's both incredibly sweet and kind of horrifying. Sweet because well, Captain America feeling protective over him is kind of a fantasy. Horrifying because, _what the fuck_ Steve saw the bruises and now he has to come up with an excuse.

“Uh. Winghead, do you really think someone like Stark would be okay being with someone that hurt him like that?” If possible, Steve's expression becomes even more mulish.

“Doesn't matter that he's rich and a genius, that kind of thing can happen to anyone. Lotta terrible stuff happens behind closed doors.” Steve continues undeterred.  Tony swallows. That kind of hits a little too close to home. He wishes suddenly that someone like Steve had been around for him when he was young. He could have used those words when he met-some of the people he met. Tony shakes himself from those dark thoughts however, it's not the time to think about that.

“Yeah. You're right, but he's not seeing anyone Cap. The bruises are from a lab accident. Experiments can go boom when they go wrong.” It's not his best work as far as explanations of injury go, but it's what he has today.  Steve crosses his arms over his chest. It just makes him look more impressive. Sometimes Tony really appreciates being able to stare.

“You're sure?” Steve is looking into the faceplate intently, as if he could glean more truth from it by doing so. “There's no one hurting him?” The 'no one I can punch' seems implied. Tony allows himself to feel a little warm at the thought of Steve jumping in a time machine and punching some of his bad decisions.

“Yeah Cap I'm sure. If he was with someone I would know. Ask Pepper or Rhodey if you don't believe me.” Tony shrugs. Once upon a time Tony Stark had been a playboy. Jumping from bed to bed had just seemed like the thing to do. A means to an end. Tony craves touch like a drowning man, but Stark Men don't ask to be  _cuddled._ So copious amounts of sex it was. It didn't mean anything to him or his various partners. Then he took a load of shrapnel to the chest and acquired the world's fanciest nightlight and a secret identity. He had been used to being lonely, but tony misses the human contact intimacy brought.

“So then he has no one taking care of him? He works a lot, don't think I've ever seen him come in here and eat a full meal.” Steve says, unknowingly dragging Tony out of his thoughts. Tony is going to get emotional whiplash from this conversation, he just knows it.

“He eats, he definitely eats. Sometimes I even eat with him.” He says, gesturing to the slowly melting shake. Tony squints at it, swiping it off the counter and shoving the straw back through the mouthslit as JARVIS thoughtfully opens it. He slurps at it pointedly, jiggling it in Steve's direction for emphasis.

“Those are disgusting, and they're not food.” Steve says with feeling, as if the smoothie is a personal offense to his person.

“Are too.” Two can play at the stubborn game. “They're actually really good, why are you such a hater?” Steve narrows his eyes when Tony takes a particularly loud drink from the straw. “Here, taste it.” To Tony's surprise, Steve takes the shake, bringing it to his lips and taking a cautious sip from the glass. He starts sputtering immediately.

“You...you lying rat, that was _awful._ Tastes like grass and sadness. _Sweet Christmas_ that's disgusting.” Steve sounds as if the very foundations of his world have been rocked.  Tony can't help himself, he starts laughing. Steve just looks so utterly betrayed. He manages to get his smoothie back between involuntary giggles, setting off Steve in the process.

“Well that settles it.” Steve says when they've both gotten themselves back under control. Tony pointedly goes back to drinking his breakfast-earning an eye roll in response.

“Settles what Winghead?”

“I'm going to make dinner and ask Mister Stark to come up and eat with us.” Tony feels the straw fall out of his mouth. Is he kidding? Steve has got to be kidding. He cannot possibly want to eat dinner with _Mister Stark_ that makes no sense. It makes so little sense that Tony wants to grab a sharpie and write 'Hi please call me Mister I Make No Sense' across Steve's perfectly symmetrical forehead. The black would probably just set off his eyes though. _Handsome bastard._ Tony thinks morosely.

“He probably won't go for it. Last I saw he had a whole bunch of stuff to work on. Projects, meetings, he falls asleep in there a lot.” That seems to not have been the right thing to say. Instead of Steve looking resigned the way most people do when finding out Tony is a workaholic-Steve just looks like he's taken it as a personal challenge.

“I'll bring it to his lab then. If he lets me in, if not I'll just leave it outside the doors for him.” Steve makes it sound like Tony letting him into the lab so he can feed him is a personal favor to _Steve_. Tony has no idea what to make of that.

“Steve, Cap, Why are you doing this? He's been fine taking care of himself alone you know.”

“Yeah but he doesn't have to be alone. He's got me-us-uh the Avengers.” Steve is stammering,  Tony never imagined someone built like Cap could sound so flustered.  Tony watches with fascination as Steve's eyes dart around and the man gets a little slash of pink across his nose and cheeks. No. That's...that's impossible.

“Not a lot of people like Stark, Cap. You don't have to force this just because he makes fun toys.” If it's possible Steve's expression becomes even more stubborn, but now he looks offended too.

“Well I like him. I mean gosh the stuff he makes is just amazing, and he's so busy all the time. It's amazing he has the time to even do little things for the Avengers, but he does, and it's always incredible-” What follows is a long and surprisingly through examination of all of Tony's recent innovations and philanthropic work.  Tony is dead, this is it, this is his dying vision: Standing in a kitchen drinking a smoothie and having Steve Rogers talk about how great he is. _It's been a wild ride, but this is how I die_ he thinks somewhat hysterically as Steve starts waxing poetic about his tech.

“But it's not about what he does for us, for me. I just.” Steve looks embarrassed, but he clears his throat and carries on. “I don't have any illusions. Guy like him could go spend dinner with anyone he pleased. I'm sure he has little book full of names, I was just hoping he would like to. Spend time with me that is. Do you think-” Steve licks his lips, looking away. Tony can't tear his eyes away.  “Do you think he would want to?” He asks quietly, as if rejection is even an option. He supposes before he got jacked on super steroids that little Steve got rejected a whole hell of a lot. Tony feels a sudden rush of protectiveness overcome him. Scrawny Pre-Serum Steve Rogers had still been a looker, and no one should make Captain America look sad. Tony still feels like he needs a glass of whiskey in his hand rather than the cold remnants of his green shake though.

“Go for it Winghead, I'm sure he would be perfectly willing to be your friend.” Tony sighs in resignation, time to go down to the lab and clean up anything potentially incriminating. Steve bites his lip but doesn't say anything more for a moment.

“Does he like pasta?” He asks after what looks like a whole lot of indecision.

“Oh Cap, he _loves_ pasta. You don't even know. If it was pasta or handjobs, he would probably pick the pasta.” Tony expects the crass wording to net at least a blush, but he's wrong.  Steve just looks like he's actually making note of this. Tony's not sure what to make of it. Pasta and Steve Rogers though. Tony's life is looking up.

  

* * *

 

 True to his word, Steve is knocking on the blacked out lab doors a few hours later. Tony sets down his welding torch and strips his protective gloves off, zipping the leather welding jacket up to his neck once his hands are free. The arc is covered by a bulletproof half-vest that ends just under the bottom of his pectorals. Rhodey calls it his Iron crop top. Tony doesn't care, he loves crop tops. Rhodey can suck it. Still, he's not yet ready for Steve to see the lines of it beneath his ratty engineering tank, so the jacket stays closed.

“Let him in Jay.” A moment later the doors whoosh open, and in comes Steve Rogers himself. Is he holding a silver tray? How did he get into a shirt that tight? Is that pomade in his hair? So many questions. Tony just barely keeps his eyes from bugging.

“Hi, um I thought you might like dinner?” He says hesitantly, coming a little closer to Tony as he speaks. There is a steaming plate full of what looks like linguine with capers and pesto chicken, garlic bread, another little plate with some Tiramisu, and a really large glass of water, because Cap hydrates like a fiend. Tony's gaze darts from Steve to the tray of food, back to Steve's face, then over the ridiculous line of his pectorals in that shirt. Tony kind of feels like he needs to go to confession and he's not even religious. He wonders if ogling Captain America is against some kind of super secret military code. Fury probably wrote the memo himself.

“Uhhhhh.” Points for intelligence Stark. Steve is starting to hunch in on himself, and that is just not on. “Is that Tiramisu?” He asks for lack of a better starter.

“Oh, yeah it is, Natasha said you liked it so I went to the bakery down the street she suggested-” Steve says with slight hesitance, probably because Tony is staring. Natasha is getting the biggest fucking bouquet of flowers he can find. It's going to look like a queen's garden. Tony _loves_ tiramisu, hook line, buy a ring, **loves** tiramisu. He makes sure to tell this to Steve, and receives a brilliant smile and a frankly adorable giggle in return.

“Dinner first, tiramisu later.” Steve drives a hard bargain, but Tony sits and lets Steve ply him with delicious pasta nonetheless.

At some point he gets fixated on a new schematic idea for mobility impaired kids, and he sets his fork down to work on that. He's peripherally aware that he's still eating while he scrawls away at the idea, but it doesn't occur to him until Steve offers him a forkful of tiramisu that Steve has been feeding him for the past few bites of food. Tony still takes the Tiramisu, he would have to be dead not to. It's delicious. He might moan a little.

“Oh my god Captain Cook, you are my new favorite person. I can't believe you brought me Tiramisu. Let's get married.”  If it's a little overdramatic, Steve doesn't seem to mind.  He's grinning wide, offering him another forkful of the sweet so Tony doesn't have to put his work down. Tony kind of really appreciates it, even if thinking about it too hard makes it weird. Tony is not going to overthink being fed coffee cake by Captain America while doing science. He is not ruining this for himself.

“Well I don't know Mister Stark, going straight to marriage seems kinda fast. Guy like you deserves to be courted.” That was **not** at all what he was expecting.  Tony nearly chokes on his next bite of dessert. Steve is _trolling_ him and it's amazing. Trolling him and looking tremendously pleased with himself while he's at it. What a guy.

“Oh yeah, you gonna woo me?” Tony asks, batting his lashes at Steve in a way he hopes is coy, but probably comes off kind of more as _yes please do me now_. Tony usually doesn't do coy well unless it's a business deal he's trying to play hard to get about it's just a fact. Steve still seems affected by it though, he pauses, tilting his head like he's really actually thinking about it.

“You just wait Mister Stark, I'm gonna woo your pants off.”  Steve says with a slight smirk.  Tony is laughing too hard to notice the considering look Steve shoots his way while he gathers up the stuff on the tray.

“Don't forget to drink your water.” Steve commands playfully, once Tony has found his zen again.

“Will do Cap, and thanks. The food was really good, amazing even, two thumbs way up.” It's obvious Steve doesn't get the reference, but he understands the gist of it nonetheless, ducking his head and smiling at Tony in a way that should make tony think 'aw shucks' but because it's Steve, he just kind of wants his head between his thighs. Tony would very much like to hit his overactive imagination and libido with a brick. _Why hello crush on Captain America that we have totally gotten over, I didn't miss you._ He thinks with growing agitation as Steve leaves the lab. Tony does not stare at his ass because he's _a gentleman._

Very slowly he sets his tablet down.

“JARVIS I am feeling a Thing.” There's silence in the lab for a moment.  Very likely the sound of JARVIS reevaluating his entire existence.

''Shall I call Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes for you then?” JARVIS asks thoughtfully.  Tony shakes his head emphatically. Rhodey will just tell him to tell everyone his secret identity and then suggest hitting on Steve because he's a madman and not to be trusted. He doesn't understand why Pepper thinks Rhodey is the responsible one.

“I think I might be uh...into Steve?” He says slowly, hesitant to even give voice to this new realization.  JARVIS makes a series of short beeping sounds that equate to laughter. Tony scowls.

“That would seem to be the case sir.” JARVIS could at least have the decency to sound surprised.

“This can't be happening.” He says, dread suffusing the words as if he's talking about the end of the world instead of his inconvenient case of the Feelings Flu.

“May I ask sir, why it is such a terrible thing to find Captain Rogers attractive? He appears to be a good man, trustworthy and concerned for your wellbeing. He cooked pasta for you.” JARVIS makes it sound like that settles it all, as if pasta is the answer to all of Tony's vast and innumerable fucking problems with trust sprinkled with a healthy dose of how much do we hate ourselves today? If only it were so simple.

“I can't JARVIS. You know that. If he...if he knew the truth he would hate me. I'm not like him, he's a good person, he's...a hero. I'm not like that”

“Might I remind you sir, that _you_ are also a hero. Shall I replay the footage of you saving that busfull of people and receiving your current injuries because you were playing human shield? Or perhaps we should ask those hostages you freed last week whether or not they consider you to be worthy of such a title.” Wow, JARVIS sounds annoyed, that's difficult to evoke.

“If he finds out I'm Iron Man-” JARVIS sighs theatrically, pulling up the footage of Steve stroking his hair and tucking him into bed.

“I do not think he would care, and I think sir, that at the very least you owe it to yourself to test the waters.” Tony replays the footage from the previous night over and over.

His chest _burns,_ and he wants, wants as he hasn't wanted something since before Afghanistan.

It's not going to happen. Tony Stark doesn't get to have a fairy-tale romance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His mind is filled  
> with beautiful things  
> past revelations,  
> and future sins.  
> He takes me to places  
> That I've never been,  
> to the edge of light  
> where darkness begins.
> 
> -Christy Ann Martine


	5. Protea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Protea-A flower meaning change, Transformation and courage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we are back to Steve's POV for this one.  
> -To everyone on The Tony Stark Defense League Discord who listened to me yowling in frustration ILY more than words can express!  
> Come yell at me on my [Tumblr](https://ilunabarrean.tumblr.com/) anytime

The next time Steve sees Mister Stark he has an entourage with him. Steve is in the kitchen scaring up a whole mess of breakfast when a tall elegant red haired woman comes in talking away on a cellphone and looking more imposing than a drill sergeant. Virginia 'Pepper' Potts, Acting CEO of Stark Industries-Steve read the dossier, he knows her immediately.

Tony is right behind her, cup of coffee clenched between his teeth as he does up cuff-links that look like they might be tiny gold enameled Iron Man heads. A shorter man in military dress is at Mister Stark's side, prodding him and causing him to nearly lose his coffee cup. Behind him Happy Hogan and Iron Man bring up the back. Steve carefully transfers some eggs, a pancake, and a slice of bacon onto a plate.

“You have a Nine O'clock with Senator Williams, followed by a demonstration of prototypes at the airfield at ten thirty, late lunch with the LabCorp reps to discuss your new testing supplies for heavy metal poisoning in the water supply. That is scheduled tentatively for one, but we can move that later if the demonstration takes too long.” She pauses, looking back at the airmen-Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes-his mind supplies. Tony Stark's longtime friend and military liaison.

“Don't worry, I'll keep them from harassing him too much. Only I get his guns now.” Rhodes says with a wide smile. Tony finally removes his coffee cup from his mouth and takes the Colonel's hand with a dramatic flourish.

“Of course. I'm a monogamist now, only the best for my Rhodey bear, pookie poo, pumpkin pie.” Tony coos to the stony faced colonel.  Rhodes glares, but he looks like he's used to this sort of behavior, and the corners of his lips twitch tellingly. Steve feels his face go a little pink. He wouldn't mind it if Mister Stark had a few sweet names for him.

“Right of course, and by the way, I still can't believe you didn't invite me to the wedding.” Pepper says without missing a beat.

“Yeah boss, way to leave your friend's out of the loop” Happy adds, grinning over at Pepper.

“It was very dramatic. There was a laser light show, possibly a few explosions as well.” Iron Man says archly, Stark sputters a bit. Pepper steps aside to place a large stack of leather bound files on the kitchen table and Steve finally gets a good look at Mister Stark.

He's in a dark suit tailored within an inch of its life, every piece of it fitted so perfectly to his body that Steve feels indecent just looking at him. Happy has the jacket in a clear garment bag, giving him an uninterrupted view of Stark when he turns to take the bag. _Those pants are really something._ Steve thinks unsteadily. The waistcoat is snug against the small of Tony's back, emphasizing the curve of a backside Steve may or may not have had a few furtive sweaty fantasies about biting.

“Your bacon is burning.” Rhodes says, breaking him out of his inappropriate staring.  Steve jerks, hurriedly turning back to his frying pan and scooping the definitely overly crispy bacon onto a towel lined plate.

“Uh thanks, sorry, I just um.” He stammers, feeling a little hot around the ears with embarrassment.  Rhodes just raises a knowing eyebrow, jerking his chin at Tony's turned back. Steve tries not to look guilty-probably failing miserably if the look Rhodes gives him in response is any indication.

“Steve! Oh wow is that bacon?” Tony walks towards him, buttoning his jacket and smoothing the lines of it. He looks so happy to see him that Steve can't help but smile back. This close up though, Steve can see faint strain around his eyes, as if he's not feeling entirely up to par. His gait-usually so smooth and easy-is slower, the steps carefully measured and small. Steve remembers the bruising and wants to walk him right back to bed. He doubts the gesture would be appreciated however, and it sounds like a full day lies ahead of him-but Steve worries.

“Yeah, here, I made you a plate. You had breakfast yet?” He asks, snagging the plate off the counter warmer and passing it over to Tony.

Tony blinks, staring down at the plate for a moment as if it's the most mysterious thing he's ever seen, before taking it and the utensils Steve passes over slowly. His eyes snap from Steve's hands to his own, but then he sighs, licking his lips and digging in with gusto. He doesn't sit, choosing instead to just lean up against the counter. So close to Steve, it would be so easy to reel him in, set the plate aside and kiss him good morning the way he wants to. The way he would if he thought maybe it might be welcomed.

“Oh my god. I'm divorcing you Rhodey, oh my fuck, this is so good. Are these _spiced?_ ” Tony says with an obscene moan around a bite of fluffy golden pancake. There's syrup just on the corner of his mouth. Steve wants to lick it.

“Well I can't court a married fella, so you better hop to. Sorry Colonel, don't mean to be a homewrecker but I just can't resist a pretty pair of brown eyes.” Steve has always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, and there is that saying about hiding secrets being easier when they're right out in the open.  Tony proves him right; laughing into his eggs, oblivious to the way everyone else in his entourage has stopped everything they're doing to just stare at the pair of them. Steve feels the tips of his ears go hot again.

“I can't believe he got him to eat breakfast and it wasn't a smoothie.” Pepper says under her breath so quietly that without super-hearing Steve would have missed it. She seemingly shakes herself though, flipping open one of her files and clearing her throat to start listing off appointments and obligations as if she never stopped.

“Pepper.” Tony whines.  “Pepper you're not my PA anymore why are you doing this to yourself?” Pepper just huffs, watching Mister Stark with something like concern.

“I know you were feeling..under the weather and I might be your CEO, but I'm also your friend. So if I want to remind you of your schedule then I will.” Tony bites his lip, eyes glittering with some emotion before he squares his shoulders and locks it down tight. Steve wonders just how bad he's feeling, just how much he's hiding from all of them right now. His breathing sounds faintly raspy under the rapid fire stream of his words, and that minty smell still clings to him.

“Hey Shellhead.”

“Yes, Captain?” Iron Man answers back without missing a beat.  Steve blinks. The suit is empty again.

“Keep any lab explosions away from Mister Stark if you can, we need him around here.” Tony looks scandalized, setting his now empty plate down and glaring between the two of them.

“I will endeavor to do so, but he has a knack for getting into trouble.” Iron Man sounds resigned, and Rhodes' muttered _no shit_ is almost lost beneath Tony's ensuing speech about betrayals and firing everyone in the room. He's not serious, and Steve just laughs, pressing a muffin into his hand when he flails in his direction.

“For the road.” He says, drawing his hand away slowly.  Tony purses his lips, looking down at the muffin then back up at Steve.

“Well you know-” Tony starts conversationally. “If we were uh-courting-then I think I would get a goodbye kiss for the road too.” He finishes with a cheeky little grin. Well. Steve's never been one to back down from a challenge.

“You're right.” He murmurs, leaning down slowly, watching Tony's eyes grow wider the closer he gets. “Wouldn't want my fella feeling neglected.” With that he drops a gentle lingering kiss on Tony's cheek.

“Have a good day sweetheart, don't work too hard.” It feels like the rest of the room has faded out when he draws back. Tony's eyes are closed, body swaying forward into Steve's space as if in anticipation of another kiss. Steve reaches out, interlacing their fingers and tugging Tony close to rest their foreheads together. Only to jerk apart when reality reasserts itself harshly via the loud blaring of rock music Steve knows to belongs to Tony's phone.

“Gotta, gotta take this.” Tony says roughly, turning away from Steve hurriedly and all but stumbling back over to his waiting friends'. He waves at Steve on his way out looking nervous and hunted as he goes. Rhodes stays behind under the premise of snagging some breakfast for himself; promising to meet them in the garage before they leave.

“So.” Rhodes says after the room has cleared.

“Want to tell me what you're doing Captain Rogers?” Rhodes is a difficult guy to read, but the protective brother vibes are loud and clear.  Steve sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face and straightening up. His ma always said slumping around when you were trying to make a good impression was bad form.

“I um. I like Mister Stark a lot. I want to court him but I don't know if he would even be interested.” Why would a guy like Tony Stark be interested in a guy like him, still he feels there might be a slight chance there.  Rhodes stares at him like he's completely featherheaded.

“Oh my god.” Rhodes says, looking up at the ceiling as if he's saying a prayer for patience. “I can't believe I get to witness this.” Steve's eyebrows go up a little bit in alarm when Rhodes mouths a silent _thank you_ in the direction of the sky.

“We were both standing here.” He gestures around at the room, speaking slowly as if he's not sure whether or not Steve's really all there. “Right here in this kitchen right?” Steve nods.  Rhodes just stares at him for long moments, as if he's sizing him up, he shakes his head.  Steve feels like he's just been declared a hopeless cause.  

“So then neither one of us just imagined the _please kiss me all over my face_ moment the two of you just had right?” Steve feels himself going red and curses his easily reddened Irish skin for the millionth time over.

"I don't know if that's what that was."  Steve says quietly.

“Right so.” Rhodes says, completely ignoring him, grabbing a fruit cup from the fridge and gesturing at Steve with it.

“The question I have for you is simple. What do you want from Tony? He's had a lot of people take a lot from him, so you better tell me right now what you're after.” Gone is the look of casual friendliness on Rhodes face. He looks every bit the hardened military man his chest full of medals implies. Steve feels like he should be saluting and shaking in his nonexistent boots right now.

“I'm not, I would never...I don't want to hurt him. He-I think he's really special and I want to. I want to show him that. Want to treat him right. I get the feeling not a lot of people have treated him right. I'm just-really bad at this.” He says, frustration coloring his words. Rhodes' face softens a little at that, but he seems determined to say his piece regardless.

“Listen. You're Captain America, I doubt anyone would think you would do anything bad, but Tony doesn't have a good record with people he trusts. He's been betrayed a lot. So if you got any ulterior motives lurking around, you had best hope they never see the light of day, or I will put on the War Machine and kick your star spangled ass from here to Bermuda. Do we have an understanding?” This time there's no friendliness in Rhodes bearing.  Steve does salute this time. It just snaps out of him without a thought, the reaction so ingrained in him by that tone of voice that it's all he can do not to drop down and start doing push ups just on reflex.

“Yes _Sir_. Understood loud and clear.” Rhodes nods, and his posture relaxes.

“Good, glad to hear it. Don't think I won't still be watching you though.” Rhodes sounds at least a little less suspicious now, and Steve falls into an easier stance, nodding in understanding.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Steve says with utmost seriousness, determined to show he's not playing any games with seeking Tony's affections.  Rhodes grabs a few things after that, putting together a dish full of food he clearly intends to eat on the way to wherever his plans take him. Just before Rhodes exits the kitchen something the man said truly registers now that the imminent danger of being decked by the War Machine has passed. Steve feels his body go tight with rage so quickly it almost leaves him breathless.

“There were others you said-” The words sound gritted out but Steve can't help it. Just the thought of what Rhodes implied makes something hot and furious settle in his gut.

“Yeah.”

“You said people hurt him-in the past. That people betrayed him.” Steve would dearly like to find them.  “Who was it? Who hurt him?” He asks darkly. Rhodes pauses in the doorway, turning his head and glancing over his shoulder to where Steve stands rigid; fists clenched tightly and body strung tense with an anger he didn't know himself capable of.  He wants to call Iron Man up, ask him if he knows.  He wants an itemized list, but he doubts he'll get it.  Tony shares so much with all of the Avengers, his home, his tech, his time-but he guards his personal life extremely closely.  Still, Steve wants to do  _something._

“Not my secrets to tell. The worst are dead though, if that makes you feel any better.” It does and it doesn't. On the one hand he's glad they're not around anymore. On the other hand it means he's probably going to break at least two punching bags today.

He's wrong. He breaks three.

 

* * *

 

 Steve doesn't see Tony again until just past two in the morning. He's on his way back from the gym-freshly showered and just tired enough to finally get into bed and sleep. Thirst calls him to the kitchen to refill his metal water bottle. He gets about three steps in before noticing he's not alone.

Tony is half sprawled across the kitchen table fast asleep. His cheek rests atop one of his ever present tablets, and he is wearing the remains of his suit from this morning. A half eaten bowl of Linguine and pesto chicken has gone cold where it was obviously set aside to make room for more tablets. Several coffee cups are in various places around the room, as if Tony had been up and pacing-forgetting them there. Math is scrawled across the glass surface of the table-the culprit guiltily indicted by the dry erase marker still clutched in Tony's hand.

Steve fills his water bottle, capping it and then setting it on the counter before slowly making his way over to Tony. He stands at his side for just a moment, considering how to approach this before JARVIS quietly breaks the silence.

“You remember what to do Captain?” JARVIS talking to him is getting less and less starling by the day.  Steve nods, crouching down so he can look at Tony's face while he coaxes him up.“Tony, hey listen, this is even more uncomfortable than the couch thing.” Tony grumbles, brows pinching together as if he's none too happy about being disturbed from his tablet pillow.

“Shaddup, gotta, gotta-” What follows is an equation so complex it leaves Steve wondering if it's even real.

“C'mon, it's bedtime.” A soft _nooo_ meets his words, and Steve feels an intense rush of fondness go through him. He reaches out, brushing the backs' of his fingers over Tony's hand, then up to comb through dark tangled hair. One golden brown eye cracks open to regard him tiredly, and Steve tries to make his smile as encouraging and welcoming as possible.

“Steve, lemme stuff to finish.” The words are jumbled and half asleep.

“I'll bring it to your room okay, you've had a long day huh?” He murmurs warmly.  Tony just mumbles in response, face tipping against Steve's hand as he loses the fight with wakefulness again. Steve sighs, petting over soft curling hair again.

It's easier to coax Tony up this time, as if in this half awake state he still remembers Steve carrying him before. Steve stills when Tony's breath catches, body shuddering in his arms only to curl up more tightly against Steve's chest.  "It's okay, I've got you."  He whispers, even though it's pretty unlikely that Tony really registers the words.

The bruising must be hurting him something dreadful. Asleep as he is there's no front to put on, no way to pretend he's not feeling the way he is. It makes Steve feel crazy. There's nothing he can do about it though, so he just makes sure to be as careful as possible; murmuring reassurances to Tony while they make their way through the house.

On the way down Steve is momentarily startled by a door being thrown open to spill light out into the hallway. The scent of something spicy and warm fills the space, Steve looks over to see that he's being watched with great interest.

“Captain.” It's Thor, standing in the doorway to one of the larger bathrooms in the mansion wearing a scandalously short gold silk robe and a pair of bunny slippers. Behind him Steve can see a truly impressive bubble bath slowly coming together. Steve blinks. He supposes two in the morning bubble baths are not the strangest thing he's seen this century.

“Hope I didn't disturb you.” Steve whispers, mindful of the sleepy genius dreaming away in his arms. Thor just shakes his head.

“Be careful of his heart Captain, 'tis a fragile thing, and trust is broken easily. Glad I am to see you have his.” Thor pauses, looking slightly sheepish. “Once did I try to carry him as you have. Twas ill advised, but Lady Jane advised to 'ice it' and then things were much improved.” Steve kind of wants to hear that story, but then Thor is stripping off his silky short robe and tossing it off to stand bare ass naked in the doorway save for a beaming smile.

“I shall have my pleasure now, it was good to speak with you.” Then he's turning around, baring his godly backside to Steve, and god, and the full moon outside the window. Steve wisely retreats down the hall after that. He flushes slightly and tries not to think of Thor's impressive _hammer_ as they get to Tony's bedroom door.

Wordlessly JARVIS lets him into the room, bringing the lights up to a warm glow similar to candlelight. The bedcovers are flung back as if Tony had tossed them off in a rush. Mint, the whole room smells like mint. Steve notes the jar of the same scented cream still sitting on the night stand. There's much more missing than the last time.

“Tony, I'm gonna put you in your bed now. Don't know how comfortable you'll be though in that suit.” He coaxes.  Tony doesn't respond, merely snuffling closer, tucking himself up tightly against Steve and sighing contentedly.

Steve doesn't want to put him down. He wants to sit in the bed and just hold him close, stroke his hair, soothe the bruises he knows hide beneath the well tailored lines of his suit-but that's not right. Tony didn't ask for that, and Steve's not going to do anything without getting permission first. Besides, he needs to court Tony properly before even thinking of getting into a bed with him-late night guilty fantasies notwithstanding.

“C'mon, bed.”

“Mmm yes, you can take me to bed anytime gorgeous.” Tony mumbles against his chest, and Steve goes hot all over. Resolutely he ignores further slurred invitations and carefully deposits Tony on the bed.

Tony jolts when Steve lays him flat, sucking in a rasping breath and curling up on his side as he had the night before. His hand flails out for the jar on the nightstand. Steve passes it over wordlessly, turning his back quickly when Tony pulls his shirt up to rub the stuff all over his chest. Nothing but the vaguest impressions of something dark and shiny wrapped around the upper half of Tony's chest remains. Steve swallows jerkily when Tony makes a soft sound of relief behind him. The comforter rustles, and the soft thump of the jar hitting the floor suggests Tony has covered up, but Steve refuses to see what he has not been invited to.  Steve isn't shy about nudity, he was in the army after all, but this is different, this is  _Tony._

“Is he, I won't see anything-JARVIS.” He asks, tipping his head up towards the cameras hidden around the room.

“Mister Stark is covered to the neck, he has stopped flashing his ankles at you Captain Rogers.” JARVIS sounds amused at his expense. Steve smiles despite himself. True to his word though he goes to get the tablets, once more stacking them on the table beside Tony's bed. He bends to retrieve the jar of minty ointment, startling when hazy brown eyes meet his on the way back up.

“Hey.” Tony murmurs sleepily.  Steve smiles, setting the jar down on the night table.

“Go to sleep Mister Stark, work will be there in the morning.” Steve replies warmly.  Tony's lashes dip in a slow tired blink. He licks his lips and their eyes lock in the warm golden light of the room. Golder even than the flecks of warm copper in Tony's eyes. God, Steve just wants to kiss him so much.

“Stay?” Tony says quietly. He can't mean that, and Steve's not going to take advantage of someone clearly not in a fully conscious state of mind. He sighs, running a hand through Tony's hair and leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

“Ask me again sometime when you're not about to pass out.” Steve hopes he will, a guy can dream anyway.  Tony nods slowly, and then he's out, fast asleep between one blink and the next.

 Steve goes to get his water bottle. He breaks another punching bag.

 

* * *

 

 Tony is gone the next day-off on a business trip to Osaka according to JARVIS. Iron Man is with him, standing tall and gleaming at his side in the pictures that soon surface on the more reputable news sites the AI suggested to him. He wonders if the pilot is in the suit today, something niggling at the back of his mind supplies a resounding _No._

“Keep him safe JARVIS.” He says once the main living area is clear of any other Avengers.

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean.” The illusion is a little flimsy, because JARVIS sounds entirely unsurprised.  Steve pulls up a video of Tony crouching down to take a picture with a pair of tiny twin girls. The three of them flash the peace sign, Steve feels that one two punch of affection sharp-right between the ribs. Tony's real smile is something Steve wants to see more of. Behind them Iron Man is posing for a picture of his own, but his movements are off.

“You do, but it's okay if you can't tell me anything.” In the video the two little girls offer Tony colorful bags with pencils and little knickknacks. Tony takes them with a joyous laugh as if he's not a multi-billionaire, as if he doesn't routinely carry around pens that cost as much as some cars.

“I will do my best Captain Rogers.” JARVIS says quietly after a long period of silence. Steve smiles.

“When will he be back anyway?” He asks.  The reply is prompt and concise.

“Mister Stark will return at Eleven in the morning sharp in five days' time.” Steve nods, getting to his feet and rolling through a few quick stretches. Five days is enough time to plan his first move. He might never have been good at talking to people he was sweet on, but you can't fail if you never try, and Tony, well he's worth trying for.

Tony strolls in five days later as if he never left. His hands are full, tech glasses across his nose, a tablet in each hand, and tiny little glowing lights peek out from inside his ears. JARVIS is having a discussion with him that is moving too quickly for Steve to follow, but he catches the words “New material” and “fucking tights” and he just knows Tony is talking smack about his uniform.

“Hi Mister Stark, welcome home.” He greets Tony warmly, walking up behind him.  Tony comes to an abrupt halt, turning towards him. Steve scrubs a towel through his hair, embarrassed at being caught before his shower. His workout had been pretty intense today-never let it be said that Carol Danvers takes it easy during a sparring session. Steve thinks he might actually be _sore._ It's kind of great. Tony takes one look at Steve, sweaty and kind of gross from his workout session and smiles like Steve's decked out in a ritzy tux rather than in need of a shower.

“That shirt is a personal gift to me, headlights.” Tony says nonsensically.

“How was your trip?” Steve asks, resting the towel around his neck and really wishing he didn't smell like a barn right now.

“It was great, fantastic even. My nanites as applicable to the regeneration of soft tissues seem to have been a big hit with the Musculoskeletal Disorder crowd, but that's not important. What's important is that I got to eat Kobe beef and I saw the face of god.” Tony says dreamily. Steve knows he's downplaying his accomplishments.

Even when Tony is justly patting himself on the back he couches it in language that says _I'm great, but I don't actually want you to talk about how great I am._ It's an odd disconnect for a man with the reputation of being a narcissist. Then again Steve lives with the man. It's all one big long front. Steve is just happy he gets to see behind the curtain. He really likes the wizard hiding back there.

“That's amazing Mister Stark, the guys with Polio back when I was a kid-they would have loved you.” Steve wishes he was a little more smooth.  God knows Bucky had tried to teach him a thing or two, but at least his fumbling seems to give Tony pause.  He purses his lips, stacking his tablets together and regarding Steve with a slow searching look.

“Polio never left. There's parts of the world-” He sighs, looking away and rocking on his heels. “Parts of the world not as lucky as us. It's still there, looming like a monstrosity in the water. Treatment's expensive though, they can't afford it.” Tony's gaze flicks down.  “This is a way to undo the damage that has already been done. It won't wipe the slate clean, but that's why we need better protection for water sources, clean treatment centers. Even here in America there's places the water is just fucked and that's ridiculous. Water should be a human right, but instead.” Tony cuts himself off, and Steve is breathless.

“Mister Stark. Are you doing this...for free?” He asks, suddenly needing to know the answer to that question more than anything.

“Stark industries-The Maria Stark Foundation is holding a fundraising gala to funnel money into clean water services for communities around the globe.  We will match any donations made to the foundation through S.I., I'm not an Avenger, but I like to think I can make some kind of difference-it doesn't make up for what I-” Tony stops when Steve reaches out to tip his chin up so their eyes meet.

“ _You_ are incredible.” He blurts, before he can reign himself in.  Tony gapes at him, mouth opening and closing speechlessly.

“Come down to the lab, um see what's on the slab. Uhh-I'll call you down after I get this airplane smell off of me. I uh. Uhhh” Tony's cheeks pink when Steve rubs his thumb over the sleek hairs of his beard.  “I have something...for you. Yeah. Um. Okay leaving now!” And then he's off, power walking down the hallway and tossing rapidfire instructions to JARVIS in a language that's definitely not English.

Steve sighs, turning to go back to his room so he can catch a shower of his own. Clint is behind him, looking like a cat that got the cream. He blinks at Steve though, eyes going down to his chest and staring in a way that makes Steve want to cover himself for some reason.

“Wow, I can see your nipples.” Clint says snidely.  Steve throws his water bottle at him. His screech of indignation is worth having to mop up the spill.

 

* * *

 

 He gets his shower and then leaves the mansion to find a florist. There's so much variety to choose from, so much more than he remembers. It seems like the seasonality of things doesn't really have an impact on whether or not stores can get things anymore. It's strange and wonderful, but it make his decision on what to bring Tony much more complicated. Countless bouquets and arrangements later he finally gives up and takes out his phone.

“JARVIS. I need your help, are you there?” Not even thirty seconds pass before he gets his answer.

“Indeed I am Captain Rogers, do you require my assistance in picking flowers for Mister Stark?” JARVIS asks, expectation clear in his tone.  Steve stares at his phone.

“How did you-” He starts.  JARVIS clears his throat, sounding almost affronted when he answers.

“It seemed logical, as you have on several occasions stated your intentions to court Sir, and while he may be oblivious to the very real intent behind your words, _I_ am not.” It doesn't escape Steve's notice that JARVIS is something-someone-Tony _created._ JARVIS might be an AI, but Tony had been right when he said he was alive.

“Yeah, they're for him. Is there...does he have a favorite flower?” A thin blue beam of light shoots out of his phone in that moment, scanning around the room once before disappearing as quickly as it came.

“Are you familiar with the language of flowers Captain?” Back when in the forties his ma had given him entire books on the subject, telling him fondly that the little details could make all the difference when courting.  Steve nods, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palm over his pants nervously. This is his first overture, he needs it to go off without a hitch. He really hopes Tony won't laugh at him, or worse, be upset.

“Might I direct you to the bouquet approximately three steps to your right and ten steps forward. The one with the red Camellias and orange roses.” _You are a flame in my heart, passionate thoughts._ Steve notes, taking the bouquet in his hands and looking it over. Red carnations _deep affection, fascination, admiration_ , Baby's breath _happiness, joy._

“It's perfect JARVIS. Thank you.” The walk back to the mansion feels short with the buzz of Steve's nerves unhelpfully carrying him along. He places the flowers in the cold, ignoring Natasha's pointed glances from where she's perched at the kitchen table as he does so.

“Those for Stark?” She says anyway. Her expression can only be described as gleeful. Steve slumps.

It's going to be a long few hours.

 

* * *

 

 “Did no one think to give you better gear when you came out of your fancy light cocoon like a big beautiful Nazi punching butterfly” Tony says, apropos to nothing when he calls Steve down to the lab several hours later. Despite the respite to get his nerves in order Steve still feels like he might just take off into the sky under the power of his anxiety alone. The source of his terror belongs to the expertly wrapped bouquet of flowers currently hidden against his back. Tony seems to be busily prodding away at one of his holo-screens however, allowing Steve to angle his cargo away from potentially being spotted.

Steve takes a moment to process Tony's question though. There's a lot to unpack in that statement, though that seems to be par for the course when speaking with Tony. The man is so distressingly intelligent, he makes Steve feel like he's tiny again looking at a pretty dame's eyes-something that feels closer being in the sights of a gun than anything else.

Tony makes him feel like there's cotton wool stuffing up his head. Makes him feel tongue tied and like his feet are too big. He feels like a bull in a china shop, trundling along while Tony talks in circles around him. He wants to pull Tony close, press his face into soft dark hair. He wants so much that it almost seems like this desire has always been there just waiting for him to come out of the ice.

He's aware that he's got it bad. the last time he was this gone on someone he was being shot at while holding a shield he wasn't entirely certain offered any protection _. Always did like the dangerous ones._ He muses to himself. The last time he felt this way he was too shy, too fearful to act on it. Seventy years asleep, and he was too afraid to tell her how he felt. He's not going to make that mistake again, even if the thought of what he's about to do has him feeling a little green around the edges.

"Come again?" Steve manages to get out, when it comes to his attention that he's been watching Tony spin around in his lab chair with something like silent terror. Tony's gaze zeroes in on him sharklike, completely unblinking. He presses his lips together and then grins, snapping his fingers and pointing up at the cieling. There's a brief dinging sound, and a scoreboard pops up. Numbers scroll all over it, but Steve can't make heads or tails of what it all means.

"Ten points, ten points for me! " Jarvis' _'Of course Sir.'_ is lost on Steve as he raises an eyebrow in question.

"I really could have made a really tasteless joke there, but I didn't. Absolutely positively crass-but I-paragon of restraint that I am resisted. Oh Pepper's gonna be so proud of me. I have been a good boy.” Steve snorts, stepping closer, hands still behind his back. The broad line of his shoulders hides the bouquet, but Steve knows it's there just ready to either make things very odd or wonderful depending on how this goes.

"Mister Stark-" Starts Steve, only to be cut off by a decisive headshake from the man across from him.

"Tony. You live in my house, you've seen me pass out on the kitchen table. I think we're past formalities here Cap." Tony says, shooting him an encouraging smile.  Steve flushes red in remembrance of helping a sleepy Tony back to his room-twice now. He'd been so warm against Steve's chest, and it had taken all his willpower not to do something crazy like kissing the man when he'd gotten Tony to his bed and their eyes had met in the dark.

He shakes himself; realizing that he's been staring into the distance with a likely none to bright expression on his face for the last few moments.

"Tony." He says, trying it on for size.  The man beams at him, and Steve's insides do a happy little dance.  "Tony I have something for you.” That stops Tony short. He blinks slowly, spinning to face Steve in his chair.

“Really, well I have something for you _first._ ” Tony might give Steve's stubborness a run for its money.  Steve wants to kiss the pouty jut of his bottom lip.

Steve laughs, nodding, adjusting the grip on the flowers behind his back and grinning when Tony claps his hands together-all bright eyes and unstoppable excitement. He's either feeling a lot better than the he was a few days ago, or he's better at hiding it now. Steve sniffs, the minty scent is still there but it's not as strong as it was before. He hopes Tony hasn't been down here working on something for him when he could have been resting.

“You're going to love this.” Tony freezes, looking tremendously uncertain suddenly. “Or um. I hope you do, why wouldn't you, it's fucking awesome.” He throws up dual peace signs, and JARVIS takes that as his cue to open a tall sliding door off to the side of Tony's work station. A tall robot with a pincer wearing a party hat comes rolling out. It's holding a very heavy looking hanger, and hanging from that is-

“Is that a new uniform? Is that a robot?” Steve asks, staring as both roll towards him-the latter chirping away gleefully and bobbing it's be-hatted pincer as it comes right up to him.

“Give it a whirl Dummy, strut your stuff.” The robot has a tiny shield strapped to its side, Steve's shield. _Oh hell_ Steve thinks as Tony starts listing off the astounding properties of his new gear. _Oh hell I think I love him._ “And it's completely bulletproof, because I cannot fucking BELIEVE that you were running around in tights.” Tony throws his hands up, giving a horrified little shriek “Tights!”

“It is a travesty, a disaster, but now you have.” Tony gets up, walking over to unzip the suit from inside its protective covering. “Stark tech!” The robot makes a little buzzing 'ta da' sound, and Steve has to fight down the irrational urge to pet it.

“Are all those bells and whistles necessary? It's incredible, but you probably could have stopped at extra shielding, Kevlar is pretty great I hear. You didn't have to work this hard Tony.” Something flashes through Tony's eyes then, something Steve has seen in his eyes in the dark. The echo of a nightmare.

“Sometimes.” Tony says softly, one hand going up to press at his chest. “Sometimes even Kevlar isn't enough. Steve remembers the pale white lines of old scars and he feels like kicking himself. Shrapnel scars. Of course. Before he can insert his foot further into his mouth Dummy squeaks, drawing their attention upwards to where he's bobbing the new uniform around as if to say _hey don't forget about me._

“Yes thank you Dummy.” Tony says, as the robot plucks off his party hat and places it on Tony's head, somehow managing not to drop Steve's new gear in the process. “Yes, yes, I needed this hat, it is indeed party time. Anyway, done being morbid now. New outfit!” Tony wiggles his fingers around, and Dummy does another spin.

“Tony.” Brown eyes snap to him, there's a vulnerability there Steve knows would be all too easy to trip over, knows without a doubt that he's just a few ill said words from having the curtain drawn down.

“It's perfect, it's...wow. You really made this for me? The bells and whistles are great. It's perfect. Thank you Tony.” He lets gratitude color the words, not trying to downplay the importance of this gift for even a second.  Tony seems to almost sag with relief before he schools that away, grinning brightly and pulling the uniform down from his now dancing robot.

“Of course I did. You're an Avenger, you deserve the best.” Tony stops, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. “And because I think.” His eyes drop to the floor, hands going tight on the hanger. “I think I can call you my friend now?”

“Of course, I would be honored to be your friend. I would be honored to be _anything_ to you.” He wants Tony to know he thinks the world of him, and is rewarded by the look transforming Tony's features with a blossoming sort of joy.  Tony's smile is like the sun coming up. Tony's smile is _everything._

Their besotted staring contest is broken up by the robot beeping curiously and leaning down into Steve's space. The pincer at the top almost looks like a little face. Steve smiles, ducking his head a little in greeting. Tony groans, pointing at the robot. “Yes ok, I'll introduce you, you're such a fanboy I swear. Don't know where he gets it. Dummy, this is Captain Steven Grant Rogers, AKA Captain America, aka Steve.” He draws the last one out.

“Oh, do you want a handshake, yes, I'm sure he wants a handshake.” Tony sighs out, fondly exasperated.  Steve grins, pulling one hand away from the flowers, and reaching out to take the Dummy's pincer in his hand. The bot whirs and clicks in a way Steve can only describe as overjoyed, bobbing his hand up and down in the most enthusiastic handshake Steve can remember.

“Tony, he's incredible. Did you make him?” His hand is still being puppeted up and down, but he doesn't care, it's just so keen. Tony made actual robots, robots and an AI that have personalities of their own.

“College project, dad wasn't too impressed.” Tony shrugs, as if it doesn't matter, but Steve knows it definitely mattered to a young Tony Stark. “But then he never really was, but that's okay, Dummy knows he's my spec ial boy.” Dummy squeaks, rushing off and returning with one of Tony's horrendous green shakes. There's a lightbulb in it. “Emphasis on the uh...special. Yes thank you, you made it a light shake. Yes yes, you're very punny. Go put it on the counter.” Steve feels a deep sense of satisfaction that Tony won't be drinking that smoothie. He thinks Dummy might be onto something. He also kind of wants to go back in time and punch Howard Stark right in the teeth.

“I need to fit you by the way. I mean, I _know_ it fits, but I really want to see you strut your stuff, make sure you're comfortable in it.” This is it, he thinks, taking a deep breath. It's now or never.

“I um. Definitely, but first I wanted you to have these.” Tony blinks slowly as Steve produces the bouquet of flowers from behind his back. They stare at each other for a long moment, before Tony's eyes drag back down to the flowers.

“Have you-” He swallows, voice going high at the end. “been holding those like that this whole time?” Tony sounds completely caught off guard, eyes wide as saucers.  Steve nods, taking the uniform from Tony's lax fingers before he drops it on the floor. Tony's mouth opens and closes, he looks at the flowers, then back up at Steve, repeating the circuit a few times. Steve steps closer, holding the gold tissue wrapped stems out in offering.

“I didn't know if you'd like them, but I figured it's a nice gift to give someone when stating your intentions.” _Intentions?_ Tony mouths incredulously, but he accepts the flowers regardless.

“And um...what are those?” Tony's head dips, he buries his nose in the blooms, glancing up at Steve through dark lashes. Steve feels his body go hot with just that look. “Is this...is this some weird forties friendship gesture, because let me tell you, times have a changed.” Steve tilts his head, reaching out with his free hand to curl his fingers around one of Tony's hands, leaning down to drop a kiss on the back of his wrist.

“I don't think times have changed all that much Tony.” He says, rising up to his full height again. Tony's eyes are wide with shock.

“You can't really be doing this. You don't want...” He trails off, and Steve just smiles, squeezing Tony's hand and letting it drop gently.

“I want to do this right, if you'll let me.” Earnestness has always been something Steve has in spades, he puts it to work now, hoping he can make Tony see how much he means everything he's said.  Tony clutches the flowers to his chest, staring off at some fixed point to the left of him.

“There's a lot you don't know about me.” Tony licks his lips, still refusing to meet his eyes. “I'm not. This is...you can't want this. I'm not for you, you don't know what you're asking Steve.” Paper crinkles as Tony hugs the flowers more tightly. A few petals shake off onto the floor, red by his feet like new blood. “There are parts of me that are ugly, things I've done, things out there that you will find. Things people will say about me-I'm covered in scars, did you know that?” Steve carefully sets down his new uniform, placing it atop one of the many tables scattered around the workshop.

“Even if we're ever...if we're ever going to sleep with each other. I'm. You can't see part of my chest. There's a pacemaker, it's. I can't show it to you.” Steve nods, feeling something twist in his core. A complicated cascade of emotions. Want, anger, fierce and protective, all circling back into a dizzying rush that Tony has said a lot of things, but he hasn't said _no._

“Whatever you want to give me, whatever you feel comfortable with, if we never reach that point, I still want to try. Do _you_ want this?” Steve asks, dizzy with the possibility, the very high possibility that he's just been reading too much into their shared looks, into everything. He feels small again, holding out a bag of sweets for someone he knows will only slap him down.

“God Steve you don't even know how much. But I...” Tony looks so miserable that Steve wants to go down and break more punching bags. “I don't know if I can. Have this that is.” Steve shuts his eyes in relief. That's definitely not a no.

“Let me show you then. Can I, can I try?” He steps close, gaze moving over Tony's face searchingly.

“Yeah. Yeah I um. I guess we can try.” Tony blinks at the smile breaking across Steve's face. “I can't believe you brought me flowers. Me. Captain America brought me _flowers._ ” Some of Tony's usual bravado is creeping back into his voice. Steve is happy to hear it. Then he's off, putting the flowers in a vase and busying himself with diagrams of Steve's new uniform.

“Go go, try it on, go.” Tony shoos him.  Steve jumps, grabbing the gear from the table and going to change in the bathroom just off the lab. He feels giddy with possibility, Tony has given him permission to court him. Steve is going to put his all into it.

When Steve steps out into the bright light of the lab with his uniform on Tony stares, eyes raking over his body assesingly first, but then greedily for a second pass. Steve might pose a little.

“It fits perfectly, it's heavier than the old uniform was-” He starts, smiling when Tony grunts, and turns his nose up with disdain.

“That's because your old uniform was just star spangled _fucking tights._ ” He hisses, getting himself all wound up into a rant that really just makes Steve want to kiss him. Then again most things kind of make Steve want to kiss him. Steve just lets him get all worked into a lather, all flailing hands and big expressive eyes. What a spitfire. Steve could probably fall in love with the man just watching him argue.

“I like that it's heavier Tony. Feels substantial.” He says, undeterred by Tony's continued besmirching of his old uniform.  Tony cuts off mid rant, finger half jabbed into the air for effectiveness in delivering his tirade against the horrors of last century superhero attire.

“Thank you. You're wonderful.” Tony looks away, hands drumming along the lab table nervously. Steve stares at his hands. A nervous gesture so like Iron Man's that first day Steve woke up in this strange new world. An empty suit. Bruises with an explanation that just seems phoned in. Tony exhausted and aching but still working, funding the Avengers through his own pockets. Tony keeping untold secrets close, brown eyes wide and filled with something unspeakable in the hallway, leaning away from Steve's arms instead of into them. If it's true then Steve's even more screwed than he thought he was.

Dangerous does not even begin to describe Tony Stark. He thinks, even in his own mind he sounds resigned.

“Cap, Cap, focus! I have another present.” Tony has rolled over on a wheeled stool. One of his tablets is summarily shoved under Steve's nose. He takes it from Tony slowly, turning it this way and that in his hands. It feels a good deal sturdier than the ones Tony carries around with him. Probably reinforced.

“It's loaded up with everything, Jay will walk you through any questions you might have. I could teach you how to use it, but we both know that would end in tears.” Steve snorts, reaching out to take one of Tony's hands in his. He stills immediately, curling their fingers together and looking up at Steve cautiously.

“Sorry. Pepper says I can get a little um. Overwhelming. I can stop.” Steve shakes his head, bringing Tony's hand up to press another kiss against his knuckles.

“Don't stop. I'm glad that you...that you think of me and want to make things to keep me-and the Avengers safe. So thank you again Tony.” Steve has never been looked at before as if he's some unknowable puzzle, but that is the look Tony is currently leveling in his direction. It's vaguely satisfying to be able to throw a super-genius for a loop. Or it would be if that didn't mean Tony had no real understanding of just how much he did for everyone on a daily basis.

Steve is going to learn how to use this tablet, and then hopefully he is going to rock Tony's world. Tony Stark is a stubborn guy, but Steve Rogers out stubborned a glacier, he thinks that has to count for something.

 


	6. Cockblock Radio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever your comments and yelling sustain me, and to everyone on the Discord just know that I love you all so much.
> 
> A HUGE and resounding thank you to the incredible [Faite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faite/pseuds/faite) for the art in this chapter. Please go shower with love!

 

 

It's late when Steve makes his way down to the training room. He tapes his hands by rote, but his mind is full of too much. From the sad cast of Tony's face to the startling realization that his two best friends' in this new world may be the same person. He wants to know so badly if he is right, but he knows if the question were to be posed to Tony, he might lose even the slim glimpses of the man behind the masks he has been allowed to see. The thought of Tony cutting him off makes something nervous and cold lance through his body and he pushes the possibility away. Whatever Tony chooses to give him is enough. Has to be enough. It's already more than he could have dreamed of-to be welcomed into Tony's lab, the new gear, Tony looking at him with hope, wonder, and something devastatingly unsure in the bright lights of his workshop.

He remembers Rhodes' words in the kitchen. Betrayal. Someone, or several someones hurt Tony in the past-likely enough that he has chosen to keep the truth from even his teammates. Steve is certain whatever happened to make Tony think he can't tell everyone just how much of a hero he is comes bogged down and weighted with so much grief it would send Steve on a punching bag destroying spree.

As if in demonstration of that thought, the punching bag currently feeling the brunt of his frustration gives an ominous creak. The chain swings once then snaps, giving up the ghost and toppling the bag onto the floor with a resounding thump of reinforced fabric hitting concrete.

Steve stares at it for a moment breathing heavily and shaking out his hands. There is a whirring sound; what remains of the chain in the roof moves towards the back of the room, and the ceiling shifts with it, bringing a new punching bag over to where he stands along a roof mounted conveyor belt. A trapdoor opens in the floor, taking the broken punching bag away as well. Steve sighs. He wonders when Tony installed that, there's no question in his mind that it _was_ Tony who installed it. Steve's gym habits have evidently become very well known.

The new punching bag seems to taunt him with its wholeness, and Steve would feel kind of sheepish about how many of them he's destroyed, but Tony just seems impressed by the carnage. Steve sighs, slumping over to his water bottle where it sits on a long bench and taking a long swig. After emptying and refilling the bottle he goes to stand in front of the heavy bag again, fists raised in preparation. Before he can land his first punch however, the distant sound of music gives him pause. Steve cocks his head, listening as the first hesitant strains become more confident.

He knows this song.

That familiarity sends him seeking the source out into the hallway; unwrapping his hands and tossing the tape in a wastebasket as he goes. It's a piano score, and it aches behind Steve's heart with how well he knows it. Steve remembers with such blinding clarity. The sweetness of powdered sugar on his tongue, cherries, funnel cake, his ma's hand in his leading him through a crowded fairground-and a man on a raised stage playing a piano like a virtuoso. He feels like he's walking through a dream, past and present blending together until it's all muddied up in his head, tied together by a strand of music that makes his heart pound in his chest.

Louder and louder, until he's standing in the doorway of a room he's visited a few times before-a smaller sitting room in dreamy pale tones. It's dark in the room, save for where the curtains have been thrown back to spill cold moonlight in long icy slats across a white grand piano and the figure sitting there. Tony is playing the piano. Of course he is. His eyes are closed, moonlight casting watery shadows over his features, catching on his lashes and making them glow.

“Rhapsody in Blue, George Gershwin, this came out when I was a kid.” He says, clearing his throat to announce his presence before he speaks.  Tony's hands still on the keys where they had been flying. He turns on the piano bench, expression guilty, and that just won't do.

“I didn't wake you did I? Sorry I... Stuck on something, sometimes playing helps to knock the brain into gear.” Tony sounds regretful, and that just won't do.  Steve shakes his head, stepping fully into the room and coming to stand beside him. The piano really is beautiful, but it's nothing compared to the man playing it. Tony's eyes widen as Steve reaches down to stroke a hand over his cheek. It's strange to think of someone with Tony's reputation being unaccustomed to touch, but small touches like these seem to confuse him terribly. It just makes Steve want to touch him all the time-show him how special he is without having to give of himself.

“Don't apologize. It's beautiful I haven't heard that in a long time.”

Tony sighs, leaning his face into Steve's hand, reaching up to place one of his own over Steve's, encouraging the touch wordlessly.  “Yeah, didn't bother you then?” Steve shakes his head.

“No, it was perfect. Always wanted to learn how to play, but times were tough and my Ma couldn't afford piano lessons.” He can't hide the wistful regret in his tone.  Tony of course, notices.  The soft dreamy expression on his face changing into what Steve recognizes as his 'I'm about to do a Thing.' face. He draws his hand away from Steve's to pat a spot on the bench.

“Sit down then Captain Handsome, I'll teach you some. You have an eidetic memory right? Should make this a piece of cake.” Tony wants to teach him to play. Tony wants to take time out of his night to teach him something. Tony is staring up at him as if Steve could possibly ever say no to him. Steve feels a rush of butterflies in his stomach so intensely that he nearly kisses Tony right then.

“Yes, I've got that. You don't have to though, I know you were busy before I came in.” The last thing he wants to do is impose, but Tony just hums, nuzzling into his hand and casting a look up at Steve through his lashes.

“Oh Steve.” He murmurs. “I'm never too busy for _you._ ” The dark smoky look Tony sends his way should be illegal. Steve thinks it just might be in some places. He licks his suddenly dry lips, slipping his hand away from Tony's cheek and sitting down heavily on the piano bench before he does something crazy like groveling at Tony's feet like the lovesick fool he is.

Tony smiles, scooting close on the bench to press right up against him. “Here, let me see your hands.” Steve dutifully lets Tony move his hands around on the piano, lets him position his fingers to his liking along the white keys. Steve watches his face. Hazy moonlight makes his features look soft, catching on the bright gleam of his eyes as he slips his hands beneath Steve's so that he can mirror everything Tony does.

“Follow my lead Cap, I know you're used to calling the shots, but trust me on this.” Steve smiles, tearing his gaze away from Tony's face to look down at the piano.

“I don't have a problem with you leading, just don't get too cocky, I'm old and set in my ways, you might leave me behind if you go too fast for me to keep up.” Poking fun at himself is worth it when Tony laughs, but he soon goes quiet, directing Steve through the first few notes of the piece. His movements are smooth, sure, without even the barest hesitation. Steve feels as much as hears the music come together, able to predict some of the notes before Tony plays them. The touch of his hand-cool despite the heat of his body-the warm press of him along Steve's side. It's almost enough to wholly distract him from playing, but play he does, letting Tony guide him through notes he has heard but never thought he would be able to reproduce. It feels like just yesterday he was a poor skinny asthmatic kid, but now he's sitting next to the most gorgeous fella he's ever seen, living in a mansion, and he might even have a _chance_ with that fella. His Ma had known he liked Valentino a little too much, he wonders if she'd be happy for him now, he thinks she would have like Tony.

“I wouldn't.” Tony says, when they finish the song; the very last notes still resonating in the room and in Steve's ears. Steve looks up from their joined hands into Tony's eyes; so expressive in the semi-darkness of the room, but Steve can see him clear as day.  “I wouldn't leave you behind. Couldn't.” Tony's hands turn beneath his on the piano, and Steve takes them in his, winding their fingers together.

“Dunno. You're always running ahead, all those big ideas in your big brain.” That earns him a snort of laughter and a glare of mock affront.

“You can't play dumb with me Steven, JARVIS told me you've got the tablet all figured out, and you use the modern equipment in the gym, so don't you give me that golly gee whiz 'what's a paperclip' bull you pull with the talking heads at FOX sometimes.” He sounds offended on Steve's part, and he finds himself smiling wide. It warms him through that Tony can see the truth. Steve may have taken to playing up his ignorance about modern technology when talking to certain members of the press. If they're the same reporters that say nasty things about Tony, well, that's something only he needs to know. Watching some red faced overblown clown try to patiently explain something so low tech Tony could probably make it in his sleep has become a pastime of Steve's. Apparently his cover is blown. He's been made-by JARVIS no less.

“You caught me, soon I'll have my own pair of rocket powered roller-skates, just you wait.” Steve says, raising Tony's hands to drop a kiss over his knuckles. Tony stills as Steve follows that with a kiss for each of his wrists, watching Tony's eyes drop shut in a slow blink with the gesture.

“Tomorrow, um.” Tony licks his lips, hands spasming slightly in Steve's grip. “Tomorrow, after I get some work in at S.I....do you want to see what I'm working on? It's pretty neat?” Tony winces clearly about to backtrack, so Steve cuts him off before he can say something no doubt self effacing.

“I want to see it, would love to see it. Probably won't understand much, but I can still appreciate what you've got cooking.” That earns him another brilliant smile, and Steve finds himself with a sudden armful of Tony Stark. He's warm in Steve's arms, and Steve pulls him close on the piano bench, hugs him tightly, strokes his fingers through the artful dishevelment of his hair. It feels good to hold Tony like this, to have the warmth of him so close, to feel the play of muscle beneath his hands-solid and real and wonderful. If he could paint a feeling it would be this. Joy and longing, warmth and touch. Something like ice melting. The first thaw of spring after a long and terrible winter.

“What are you doing up anyway Steve?” Tony murmurs after an indeterminate amount of time has passed.

“Couldn't sleep, broke another punching bag, sorry.” He mumbles sheepishly.  Tony just laughs, leaning back so look at his face searchingly.

“If you go to sleep I'll go to sleep. Deal?” Tony drives a hard bargain, but the thought of both of them sleeping at the same time in rooms just down the hall from one another makes the sappy romantic Steve really is at heart perk up and take notice.

“You've got yourself a deal Mister Stark, but I want to walk you to your door. Got to do this right.” Tony's answering smile is small and slightly shy in a way Steve knows other people don't get to see. Steve doesn't _want_ anyone else to see it either. If people knew this side of Tony he would never get any peace. Steve understands the necessity of the masks he wears. It makes these moments all the more rare. He cradles them close, protects them like precious gems. This side of Tony is not for prying eyes, the rest of the world is not invited.

The walk to their rooms is quiet, Steve drifting into Tony's orbit to wrap an arm around his waist. Progress is slow that way, but it means Tony can rest his head on Steve's shoulder. Steve counts that as a resounding win. When they make it to Tony's door it opens, lights drawing up to a dim candlelit tone in anticipation of Tony's presence.

“Goodnight Tony, I'll see you tomorrow.”

Tony nods, swaying close when Steve cups his elbows to draw him in.  “Goodnight Cap, no more punching bags tonight.”

Steve chuckles, leaning close to drop a kiss on the top of Tony's head. His hair smells faintly of motor oil and whatever fancy shampoo he keeps in his shower caddie. If he has a shower caddie. Steve deliberately moves his thoughts away from Tony and showering.  Steve sighs, running a hand through Tony's hair and stepping back to make the short trip to his own bedroom.  

The walk to his room is lonely, but he feels Tony's gaze follow him down the hall. He doesn't turn to look, that way lies madness. Madness and possibly picking Tony up and having him against the wall. Steve flushes probably down to his toes at the thought. He doesn't know if Tony would even _want_ that-but the mental image is compelling to say the least. Compelling and distracting as Steve soon finds. Tossing and turning on the bed feeling hot all over with want was not how he planned the events of this evening. Steve glares down in the direction of his persistent arousal as if that will help. It's either ignore it, or do something about it. Steve knows enough about his own anatomy to not want to deal with the latter. One time will turn into two or three, and then he'll end up sticky and guilty in the shower. The pattern has already been established.

Steve sighs, kicking the covers off with a groan of frustration and getting up to grab his sketchbook. He draws Tony's hands on the piano, Tony's face haloed by moonlight-lips turned up in a small private smile. Tony's eyes with their lush fan of dark lashes, the pout of his lips when someone teases him not unkindly. He draws until finally sleep is inevitable.

The dreams that night are warm. 

 

* * *

 

Come morning Steve goes for his customary jog. Even though sleep was short the previous night he feels fairly well rested. A side effect of the serum he knows to be true. Still he's up slightly later than usual, and after showering he makes it down to the main kitchen just in time to see Thor take the last apple fritter. He knows it's Tony's favorite, but Thor and his food are parted just about as easily as a bear and a ham-hock.

As if on cue Tony himself comes in looking sleepy in an oversized red MIT sweatshirt and a pair well fitted dress trousers. A pair of burgundy velvet slippers completes the look, soles shuffling across the floor as Tony wanders into his space to groan and lean his head on Steve's chest.

“Oh yeah, worth getting out of bed.” He mutters, before slogging off to pour himself a cup of coffee. Steve piles a plate high with food, smiling at Tony's back helplessly and taking his seat at the table with the other Avengers present.

“That's impressive, his eyes aren't even open.” Clint says, sounding awestruck watching as Tony opens the fridge, pours a small quantity of milk into his mug, then tips his head back to seemingly pour the entire cup down his throat in one long gulp. “You seeing this Cap?” Clint asks, gesturing at Tony and waggling his eyebrows. Steve hits him square between the eyes with one of the little breakfast sausages Carol likes so much.

“Hey! Don't waste food!.” Clint grabs the sausage off the floor, but loses it to Jan's quick fingers.

“You are not eating that, don't be gross.” Jan says disgustedly.  Clint pouts but doesn't press the matter, letting Jan toss the offending sausage in the trash. Peripherally Steve is aware of Tony moving around behind them, the sound of him pouring another cup of coffee and the squeak of a chair being pulled out.

“Hey.” He says quietly, when Tony leans up against him, sipping his coffee and watching the team through just barely open eyes. Sleepy morning Tony is truly a sight to behold, Steve smiles when Tony mutters about nanites into his mug; seemingly content to just drink his coffee and slump against him until he catches sight of the pastry on Thor's plate.

“Apple fritter...” Tony frowns, and Thor looks up having heard.

“Ah friend Anthony, I did not know you were fond of these.” Thor says with a broad smile.  Tony nods, and Steve watches with something like jealousy as Thor tears a piece of the doughy sweet off and holds it out to Tony on his fork. Who eats bread with a fork anyway? Tony however seems unperturbed by the gesture, shrugging and happily accepting the bites he's offered-sipping his coffee in between.

“Is it good, does it please you?” Thor asks. Something like jealousy is rapidly upgraded to full on jealousy when Tony nods and lets Thor feed him another piece of the fritter. Objectively he knows it's ridiculous, Thor is just being Thor, he's not _really_ flirting with Tony, but Steve can't help it. The scrappy little bastard he used to be wants to sock him right in his princely nose. He doubts Tony would appreciate the possessive behavior, or the no doubt ensuing property damage. Besides, he _likes_ Thor, he just doesn't like Thor feeding Tony while he's all sleepwarm and snuggly. Jealousy makes no sense. Steve frowns.

“Is something the matter Captain?” Their resident Asgardian sounds far too pleased with himself.  Steve glances up, and Thor winks, sitting back to take a bite of his food, smiling as he chews and looking so damn smug that Steve has to roll his eyes. Tony settles back in next to him, yawning and stealing a hashbrown from Steve's plate.

“You want me to put a plate together? There's a lot over on the counter.” Steve offers, concerned Tony is going to be sitting up at S.I. hungry.  Tony just shakes his head, digging into his stolen goods with a few big bites.

“Nope, had a smoothie, I'm all good, and if I eat any more carbs I'm going back to sleep. Not all of us are supersoldiers. I work hard for this bod, so many squats, you don't even know.”  Tony grumbles, glaring around the table as if affronted by all the superhero metabolisms surrounding him.  Steve resists the urge to glance down at the body in question.  He stares enough as it is.

“Oh we've got some idea.” Carol says, shrugging when Steve shoots her a glare. Clint mutters something about bouncing quarters. Steve can't believe they're saying this right in front of Tony, but he seems completely undisturbed, in fact he looks kind of proud. Steve supposes he'd be proud too if his behind looked like Tony's. Which is not a good train of thought to engage in while sitting at the kitchen table with the team while the owner of said behind is using his arm as a headrest. Steve feels the powerful urge to break a few punching bags.

“You still want to see what I'm working on after I'm done at S.I.?” Tony asks, draining the last of his coffee and standing to get a third cup.

“Of course, Iron Man will be with you at S.I. Right? If not I have something I wanna ask him.” Tony stirs his coffee silently, as if he's thinking of what to say. The line of his shoulders has gone suddenly tense under his sweatshirt.

“He's going to be with me, why, got a crush, need to air it out?” Tony slurps at his coffee. Steve gets up, standing behind Tony and tapping his shoulder to encourage him to turn around. When he does, Steve takes his hand and squeezes it.

“I've got a crush on the engineer that made his fancy flying gig possible, but the armor is awfully pretty.” He murmurs, bringing Tony's hand up to press a warm kiss against his knuckles.  Tony sputters, shooting Steve a wounded look when that makes him spill some of his coffee. A cardinal offense he's sure, but it's worth it when Tony darts in for a hug before trotting off to get ready for work. When he turns back to go finish his food the team attacks him with questions. Their acceptance, the excitement they feel for him, Thor's encouraging clap on the back-all buoy his spirits for the rest of the day.

He draws Tony again, eyes half closed clutching a coffee mug in one hand and a stolen hashbrown in the other. When he's done he stares at it. It's so obvious he's in love with Tony, he may as well have drawn floating little hearts all around the piece. Steve sighs, tracing his fingers over the graphite, and wishing not for the first time that he could read a thought or two. It would be great to know if Tony was as gone on Steve as he is on him. Of course the alternative would be finding out Tony was just humoring him. Maybe ignorance is preferable. Steve picks up his pencil and draws a little Iron Man on Tony's mug. Better.

 

* * *

 

 Hours later Tony is back at the mansion, and they're in one of the many sitting rooms scattered around the house. The others are all doing their own thing, and it's just the two of them. Tony is bent over a holo-screen gesticulating with one hand and holding another one of his atrocious smoothies in the other.

The pale blue lights from the screen reflect in the futuristic looking lenses Tony has perched on his nose. Tony explained them earlier, along with the nifty little device spanning the palm of his flailing hand. Something about tactile holograms and their application to finding weak points in submerged structures. Steve had been fascinated, but what's new, Steve knows he has been in a near constant state of _interested_ since Tony showed him to his room in the mansion.

That Tony has agreed to let Steve court him-that he seeks Steve's company and makes time for him makes something hot and possessive burn through him. He really hopes he's not reading too much into all of this. Hopes that Tony won't find him too old fashioned, or become bored with a man out of time. Tony doesn't do boredom well, and Steve is only too aware of how he pales next to one of the brightest minds in the last few centuries. Still, Tony _does_ seek him out, and seems happy to be around him, so that has to count for something.

Steve twirls the stylus Tony passed over to him when they first walked into the room, and Tony pauses mid-rant to take a sip of his shake. How he does that without gagging, Steve has no idea, he even seems to _like_ the vile things.

“Gimme the stylus, I'll show you.” Tony says, putting his shake down on the coffee table to free up his hand. Steve silently passes it over, watching raptly as Tony makes a complicated motion with the fingers of his other hand. Little light nodes glimmer on his palm, the hologram expands to fill the room, and Steve sucks in a shocked breath.

“Wow.” Is all he can get out. The schematic is _beautiful._ All precise lines and floating equations. Tony sweeps his stylus along one, muttering about weight bearing walls and materials. Light catches on the golden brown of his eyes. _Like starlight_ some poetic portion of his brain supplies.

“Has anyone ever told you you're an amazing artist? I mean, you play the piano something gorgeous, but this, this is a different kind of art.” He can't help the awe from leaking into his tone, and he doesn't want to.  Tony stills, eyes going wide and snapping over to stare at him. Steve smiles at the look of surprise aimed his way, gesturing at the scene around them.

“You made this right?” He asks, the question more perfunctory than anything else.  Tony nods, silent and seemingly dumbstruck.

“Yeah but...uh, most people they don't see this kind of stuff as art. I mean it _is_ art... right?” For a man as brilliant and multi-talented as he is, Tony's awfully terrible at recognizing and accepting a genuine compliment. The hesitance in his voice makes Steve want to step in a time machine to go kick whoever made Tony feel inadequate in some very sensitive places.

“Yeah, it definitely is, and it's _beautiful_ Tony, I mean, just look at this-” he gestures at the twinkling, shifting holograms around them.  Tony is _blushing_ and Steve has never seen anything so goddamn gorgeous.

“I'm looking Cap, I'm-I'm really looking. It's just kind of difficult for me to see sometimes.” The words are soft, vulnerable. Steve scoots closer on the couch almost unthinkingly. Their knees touch, and Tony's hands drop down, lashes dipping as Steve gently cups his face in one broad palm. It's utterly silent in the room save for his own pounding heartbeat, and that strange electrical hum that always clings to Tony. Beneath it he can almost hear the man's heart.

“You've got something-” He murmurs, turning his palm slightly, and Tony sucks in a ragged breath. He has touched Tony like this before, but something about this moment makes it different. He wants Tony, wants so badly that his hands almost tremble with it.

“right here.” Steve watches with fascination as Tony's pupils blow out when he drags his thumb over a smudge at the corner of Tony's mouth. Soft, so soft. Steve can feel the warmth of Tony's breath over his fingers. He curls them, tucking them around the curve of Tony's jaw. That electric hum gets almost imperceptibly louder as Steve leans in. He rubs over soft lips again, before slipping his thumb down and out of the way. It feels charged between them, tension ratcheting higher as their eyes lock and Steve feels suddenly hot all over.

“Steve.” Tony breathes out, and Steve nearly groans when he feels a tiny shiver work through Tony's body. His other hand falls to his side while he stands up to lean over Tony on the couch.

“ _Steve_.” Tony repeats, softer now. His name said in that tone of voice is enough to cause goosebumps. Desire pools in his gut, hot and heady when Tony's lips part, head angling so their noses won't bump. Everything about his posture screams _kiss me,_ and god does Steve want that. He had wondered if Tony really was interested, maybe he's right, maybe he can have this after all.

Their lips are so close that their breath mingles. Tony's eyes have fallen shut, lashes casting dark sooty shadows over the sharp cut of his cheekbones. It's too much to resist, or it would be if his Avenger's Communicator hadn't picked that very moment to start singing a swan song for their moment.

Steve curses floridly, pulling back from Tony to dig the offending thing out of his pocket. Tony's head is tipped back on the couch, eyes wide and stunned, but he seems to shake himself. He's so intent on the little card he almost misses the flashing light at the corner of Tony's tech glasses.

“I have to go Tony, I'm sorry.” Tony nods, head still leaned back on the couch. He looks dazed.

“Yeah, yeah I know. There's a gala in a week, Maria Stark Foundation, come with me please, I hate going to those things alone. The others are invited too but I want you.” Tony blinks, and Steve tries not to look too pleased with that slip of the tongue.

“Yes of course, anything. Anything you want.” Steve says, tucking his card back into his pocket.  Tony sighs.

“Okay, go save the world, I'll just be here, be careful, come back in one piece.”  Tony says, enough command in his voice to make Rhodes proud.  Steve doubts very much that Tony will be sitting right here, but he still drops a kiss on Tony's cheek before going to get his gear on and boarding the quinjet. His pants are exceptionally difficult to wiggle into today. Steve is going to absolutely obliterate whatever villain is behind this alert.

 


	7. If I Had a Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings for character injury-nothing too graphic, but there is a fight in this chapter as a head's up. Also Tony and his self loathing, but that's kind of a given with him.
> 
> And as ever come lurk on my [Tumblr](https://ilunabarrean.tumblr.com/) anytime.

The villain as it turns out to be is something better suited to a mystery novel. Steve has investigated strange happenstances before, but thus far has avoided being on a train since waking in this new century. It seems his luck has run out. Despite the fact that they have their own nicely appointed compartment, and this track is neither snowy nor particularly secretive, Steve feels frozen through.

The tracks wind through the beautiful scenery of the Great Smoky Mountains. Steve would be more inclined to appreciate a hike, but that's neither here nor there. People have been losing things along this path for weeks-watches, laptops, packs of batteries. It all seemed rather benign-Thor suggested fae folk, Steve smiles at the memory-but just recently an entire train full of people went missing. They appeared back in town days later, speaking of a strange creature _eating_ the train engine and systematically ripping the rest of the train to shreds. It seemed uninterested in the passengers, but the danger is obvious.

Steve tries to keep his focus on that, and not the sound of the wind rushing by a window Wasp opened to poke her head out of. He wants to pull her back, drag her away from that exposed position. The mountainside taunts him, and he looks down at his own hands clenched in his lap, refusing to see the trees rushing by. His peripheral vision-always such a blessing in battle-is an enemy here. Even his his gaze averted he can still see the scenery rushing by. Minute shivers dance over his skin, and he grits his teeth to keep them from chattering. Distantly, as if from the end of a long tunnel he hears Iron Man talking to the others, then the shuffle of them all filing out of the compartment.

“Hey, hey big guy, you with me?” Iron Man asks, walking over to stand in front of him.  Steve takes a shuddering breath, looking up into glowing blue eye slits.

“You look a little queasy there, feeling motion sick? I have some Dramamine in one of these compartments. Hold on a sec-” Steve watches as several flaps open up on the armor, Iron Man rifles through them, producing various first aid items and a little aluminum pouch. That he passes to Steve who takes it without comment.

“Dried fruit, you haven't eaten in a while right? I know your metabolism.” Iron man points at the little bag, and Steve blinks down at the food in his hands, then up at Iron Man.

“Dramamine won't work on me. Not motion sick.” Steve has been poked and prodded with enough chemical concoctions to know it's pretty hopeless.  Iron Man seems to slump; compartments closing up all along the armor as he abandons his search for the medication. Steve opens the food pouch and dutifully pops a few strips of fruit into his mouth. More to appease Iron Man than because he's really hungry, and also to give his hands something to do. Something other than balling into such tight fists that he can hear his bones creak.

“Yeah I thought so. You wanna tell me what's wrong? You were shivering, are you cold? The suit Stark made you should be insulated enough to keep you from-oh.” Iron Man cuts off as Steve looks away, out towards the open window. Both of his hands open and close, he turns on one foot, then back to look at Steve before marching over to slam the window shut. The faceplate turns towards him again, and then he's moving, drawing curtains over all the windows in the compartment. Steve feels a rush of affection for the man in the armor. If it is Tony it just makes him love him even more, if it's not then he's still an incredible friend, and an observant one at that.

“You said.” Steve forces out. “You said you had them too.” He says, feeling terrible and ashamed of his own reactions to something as innocuous as cold mountain air.  Iron Man stills, dropping down into a crouch next to Steve with a mechanical whirring of servos.

“Cap..Steve, talk to me, what can I do, can I help?” Iron man says, worry coloring every word.  Steve just focuses on breathing in and out. He's cold, breath leaving him in gasps that feel laced with frost. “Fuck, it's the train isn't it, shit I should have thought about that.”

“Bucky used to rub my back when this happened.” He blurts out, feeling stupid the moment it leaves his mouth. Iron Man said he had them too-before. He must understand, he won't judge Steve for this, or at least Steve hopes so. He doesn't think Tony would judge him either. Tony is good and kind, and so so gentle with the pain of others even if he pretends to be careless and fickle for the cameras. Steve knows the truth.

“People don't..after the serum.” the words are garbled, but Iron man just waits patiently, letting Steve take his gauntleted hands in his; the little baggie of food falls to the wayside, forgotten for now. “People don't touch me anymore and I miss it. I miss it so much, but I can't ask for that.” Inside the armor, Iron Man takes a sharp breath.

“I miss Tony. I know we haven't been gone long at all but I miss him. He's warm, and when he's close things are..” Steve licks his dry lips, pressing on. “Things are good when he's close. He hugged me. Twice now.” Despite the constant motion of the train over the rails, the distant conversations of the others in the train, it's silent enough to hear a pin drop between them.

“He hugged me and he was so warm..and I think. Today I think we nearly kissed.” The last of it is almost a whisper, but Iron man hears him clearly.  Iron Man sighs, his head dropping as if he's shaking himself. He shifts up though, locking the joints of the armor into a sitting position and pressing up against Steve's side. The armor is warm at every point of contact. Steve knows he can't sit in the seat next to him, these chairs are not reinforced enough for the gold titanium alloy.

“Really?” Iron Man sounds like he's having trouble modulating his own voice. Steve almost smiles to hear it.  “Would you have liked it? If the two of you had um. If you had kissed him.” There's a warm gauntleted hand on his lower back. Steve shudders, plucking the shield off and setting it by his feet so Iron Man can rub slow soothing circles over his shoulders. He's still not as warm as another person, but it's good, better than he could have expected.

“Part of me woulda loved it but I haven't even really gotten to court him. It would have felt so good to do it though-god he's just gorgeous-but I want to take him on a date first.” The hand on his back stops moving, he can see Iron Man staring at him from the corner of his eye. Steve represses the smile threatening to give him away. If Tony is in the armor it sure is nice to be able to compliment the heck out of him without getting any blowback. Steve counts it as a victory when the hand on his back resumes its gentle motions.

“You are unreal, do you know that? I'm sure if you asked he'd hand himself over on a silver platter.” Iron Man pauses. “Probably with bells on if you wanted. You know what they say about him.” Iron Man continues, and Steve feels himself go tense, panic disappearing in the face of simmering anger. Not at Tony. Never at Tony, but at the people who write the sort of stories Iron Man is referring to. Learning how to use the tablet, Steve has come across a lot of ugly articles about Tony. Tony with a sleek smile on his face, Tony with a drink in his hand and a man or a woman on the other, Tony who looks nothing like that when he's really truly happy. Steve hates those articles, hates the people that write them, that try so hard to tear down, to dissect, to demonize Tony. If Steve was made into Atlas, against his will then Tony sits beneath the weight of the world of his own volition, and the world spins on and spites him for it.

“Lotta trash all of it. Doesn't matter what they say, and it doesn't change anything about how I feel.” Steve grouses, and Iron man shifts an infinitesimal fraction closer. Steve hears him take a long breath, but before he can voice whatever is on his mind the train gives a horrifying shudder.

“Oh shit-” Iron Man says.

The next few moments are filled with shouting and confusion as the entire train goes flipping off the tracks. Over the comms he can hear the other Avengers yelling as the train cars smash against the mountainside. Iron Man catches him up but the momentum sends them careening through brush, debris flies everywhere as they pinwheel through the sky. A giant piece of siding crashes into Iron Man's back and they slam into the ground at a roll. From a distance lightning strikes, lighting everything up with dazzling white light. Something catches on his wrist as he scrabbles for purchase on gravel and rock, and he feels the sickening snap through his whole body as his arm breaks with the impact. Everything turns upside down when Iron Man fires his boot repulsors and brings them up above the fray in a spinning arc. The sudden acceleration wrenches his injury, he can't help but groan through gritted teeth.

“Cap, Cap what happened?” He can feel Iron Man patting him over but his head is still spinning, still he gathers himself together.

“Thanks for the save Iron Man, Avengers, is everyone safe, what happened?” He asks, keeping his voice steady despite the heavy spikes of pain radiating up his arm.  Iron Man slowly brings them back down to the ground as the others start calling in their affirmatives. Everyone sounds at least a little shaken, a few abrasions here and there, but nothing major thanks to Thor and Falcon flying the others out.

“Zipped out like a dragonfly, don't worry about me Cap, you and Shellhead okay?” Jan calls, Steve can hear the flutter of her wings over the speakers.

“Cap your arm is broken, closed break from the scans, but we can't just leave it like that with how fast you heal. Avengers-go scout around while we get this taken care of.” Iron Man says over the comms.  He hears several exclamations of concern, but confirms Iron Man's orders, they need to know what caused this.

Iron man sighs, turning to face him and scanning over the arm with a glittering network of lights. He tsks. “Not good.” Iron Man murmurs and Steve grunts, looking down at the arm in question, even through the padding of his uniform it's clearly at the wrong angle. Adrenaline is still high, but it's still incredibly painful, he knows if he allows time to pass it will only get worse. Steve has set bones in worse places before, this is going to hurt though. “Gonna need to apply traction to that but I've got some painkillers in here.” Iron Man starts opening up flaps, producing a thin syringe from god knows where and manipulating it surprisingly gently between metal clad fingers. Steve can read the label on it from where he's standing.

“That won't work.” Steve says, even to his own ears he sounds resigned.

“What. This is, strong, would knock me right on my ass.” Iron man sounds more than a little horrified.

“Won't work, doesn't matter. Anything short of Rhino tranqs and it won't do a thing. Doubt you've got any of those in your medpack.” Steve has a feeling if he could see Iron Man's face right now he would be gaping at him.

“Cap. Steve.” Iron Man says quietly, worry evident through the voice modulation. “What would happen if you needed surgical intervention, how much pain are you in right now?” Steve just looks away, the answer will only upset Iron Man further, he knows it. His silence seems to get the message across well enough anyway, if the lurid and creative cursing that follows is anything to go by. Steve smiles despite the growing discomfort radiating up his arm.

“What a mouth on you, Commandos would have been proud.” Steve says, unable to resist needling his friend despite the situation. “C'mere, help me fix this. You got a splint stowed away in that roomy behind of yours?”

“Oh my god, you little-I'll have you know I fill out this armor quite nicely, and if it was _really_ fitted to me you wouldn't be able to concentrate. You would be blinded by my gorgeous metal _ass_ ets.” Iron Man sounds a little miffed, but Steve doesn't doubt the truth of the statement. If it is Tony in the armor Steve is lucky it's not completely anatomically accurate. Steve might be a gentleman but he's got eyes. It doesn't escape his notice that Iron Man is keeping the conversation carefully light, as if he's afraid for Steve but trying not to show it. Steve appreciates the levity, it helps him push thoughts of the train even further down, helps him smile through the agony racing up his arm and poke back at his friend just a little bit.

“Nothing about me is little Shellhead.” Steve snorts, sitting down on the ground and gesturing at himself with his good arm. Iron Man stares at him momentarily before crouching at his side. “But Bucky did used to call me a little shit anyway so I guess the two of you are in agreement.”

“Did you just make a dick joke while your arm is broken in the woods?” Iron man says incredulously, but he squeezes his shoulder comfortingly despite the light tone.

“Might have but no one will believe you.” Steve says, grin becoming a grimace when he shifts his back up against a tree and it jars his arm. Iron man swears under his breath, rubbing Steve's shoulder and muttering to himself. The servos whir quietly, motions liquid smooth, Steve is grateful once more for Tony's engineering genius. The suit allows fine motor control, but it's also strong enough, precise enough for what is needed now.

“Hey Winghead, are you sure you want me to do this, sure you don't want something to take the edge off at least a little?” Iron Man sounds so hesitant, and Steve is reminded again of how little faith Tony has in the trust others put in him. The empty suit is much more self assured, all the more reason to suggest it's the man he loves in the armor. Steve smiles despite the situation, tipping his head back against rough bark and sighing a long breath out before staring back into the faceplate.

“You're one of the most trustworthy people I know. I put my life in your hands when we fight, when I let you carry me around with your fancy rockets. Why wouldn't I trust you for this?” Steve tries to put every ounce of his sincerity into the statement. He needs Iron Man to know that this is okay, that there's no one else he would have more faith in to make things right.

“Something tells me you know more about doing this sort of thing than I really want to think about.” He adds, when the hand on his shoulder stills, Iron Man going quiet over the comms. Steve has a feeling there's a lot of swearing going on behind the faceplate.

“Mister Stark takes care of my injuries most of the time.” Iron Man says slowly.

“Yeah but you're not always able to reach him, I know you've taken some pretty rough hits. You know what you're doing.” Steve has seen Iron Man get tossed around like pinball on more than one occasion. Logically he knows the armor must have intense shock dampening capabilities, but he's seen the bruising, Tony definitely isn't escaping injury even armored up as he is. There's a part of Steve that desperately wants to keep Tony safe, that wants more than anything to tell Tony that he _knows-_ and then to beg Tony to please leave the life risking to him. He knows that would go over like a lead balloon though. Tony burns so bright with the desire to help others that Steve worries he will flame out, or that he will throw himself into the jaws of death even if it means saving just one person. He supposes Bucky would call this karma, Steve hopes he's having a good laugh at Steve's expense wherever he is.

“Okay yeah. I do have a splint too, but it's not stored in my shiny metal ass just so you know.” Iron Man says, pulling Steve from the direction of his thoughts. He's trying for levity again but it doesn't quite work, there's too much concern suffusing the words. Iron Man sighs gustily, hand rubbing over his shoulder again in slow soothing motions.

Another compartment opens on the armor to pop out an odd little device. Iron Man shakes it out to reveal a sort of complex wire skeleton. That must be the splint, definitely better than the twig splints he's made in a pinch in the past. He would share that with Iron Man, but then he would probably start swearing again. Steve really wishes he was out of the armor now, that he could see Tony's face, but he knows this is not the time to push. This thing between them is still so tenuous, even the slightest step in the wrong direction and everything falls down like a house of cards.

“Just, don't watch okay. I'm going to try to do this as quickly as possible. JARVIS, throw up those scans please.” Iron Man is making a concerted effort to sound sure of himself, Steve wishes he had more faith in the trust Steve has for him, but the man is almost as stubborn as he is.  Steve closes his eyes, steeling himself for what is to come. Iron Man is shifting around beside him, cutting the sleeve of his uniform off with warm precise laser-light. He feels terrible about ruining the suit, but something tells him Tony has other concerns on his mind right now. The air smells cold, damp and green, when he takes a deep breath in it tastes of pinesap and resin. Above them in the trees the birds are utterly silent. Steve has a moment to register the oddity of that, and then strong gauntleted hands are pulling on his arm, aligning the bone with quick efficient motions. He doesn't know the sound he makes but it clearly distresses Iron Man deeply. He apologizes profusely, quickly moving to lock the splint in place. Steve groans, knocking his head back against the tree and gritting his teeth.

“God, fuck, I'm so sorry, sorry, fuck, fuck, but it's done now, all done. Does that...is that any better?” Iron Man sounds incredibly agitated, as if this is the worst possible outcome. Steve feels a sense of deep fondness melt through him even as his arm throbs in the splint.

“That's a lot better actually, thank you Shellhead, you're a real lifesaver.” Iron Man slumps, resting his head on Steve's shoulder in response. Steve wants so badly to hug him. Even though the armor is hard and unyielding, he's a warm presence at Steve's side; solid and grounding, and undeniably there with him in the here and now. Distantly he can hear the other Avengers over the comm line but that seems far away.

“God now I know how Pep felt with the reactor and the chair thing.” He mutters almost too quietly to hear. Steve knocks on the helmet with his good hand to get his attention.

“I'm alright, need to find my shield.” Steve reminds him, without it he's starting to feel a little exposed.  Iron Man nods, climbing to his feet and helping Steve up. Steve appreciates the gesture despite being capable of getting to his feet on his own. Iron Man is obviously worrying up a storm inside the armor.

“JARVIS, set up a sweep for Vibranium, that should narrow things down pretty quick. It can't have gone far.” He says, staying close to Steve as they pick their way through the underbrush. There's debris everywhere. Cracked and fallen trees lie strewn about, behind them there is a massive trail of destruction where the train was flung like a toy from the tracks. Something like dread curdles in Steve's stomach.

“Sir there appears to be a very small amount of Vibranium very close by.” JARVIS says in that cool crisp way of his that's all sass.  Iron Man snorts.

“Smart ass, thank you, any _larger_ quantities you'd like to share with the class?” _A small amount of Vibranium.._ Steve doesn't have time to ponder on the strangeness of that statement before JARVIS is speaking again; voice crisp and concise as it always is-even when he's wearing Iron Man's voice and piloting the armor no doubt.

“Scans detect an amount likely to be Captain Roger's shield is one mile due east.” JARVIS says after a few moments of silence.  Iron Man nods, getting an arm around Steve's waist and encouraging him to step up on the jet boots as they've done many times before. The take off into the sky is as gentle as it's ever been, as if Iron Man is trying to be extra careful about his injury. Steve smiles, if Tony wouldn't think he was making moves on Iron Man he'd give the cheek of the faceplate a kiss right about now.

“How's your arm?” Iron Man asks just moments later when they touch down on soft earth once more.

“Not too bad, thank you Dr. Shellhead. Feels much better than it did before.” That's not even a lie, with the bone aligned and immobilized the pain has simmered down to a deep bruised feeling instead of the teeth grinding agony of before. Iron Man definitely knows what he's doing-which is both comforting and very much not. The thought of Tony down in his lab after missions nursing his injuries alone-bleeding and aching alone makes something dark and terrified burn bright behind his eyes.

“There it is, come to papa, you shiny beautiful piece of metal.” Iron Man says, oblivious to the thoughts whirling through Steve's head. The shield is propped up against the dark mouth of a cave, star turned upside down perfectly. It strikes Steve as being a little too artful. Iron Man's crunching metallic steps track across the clearing towards the shield, Steve at his back. Something feels very wrong. The birds have gone silent again. A drop of sweat slides down Steve's back despite the relative cold in the mountains.

“Captain, Man of Iron, we have found Asgardian summon runes on the tracks, I would advise caution, there is something of great power here.” Thor's voice is loud over the comms, echoing around the clearing hollowly. He sees Iron Man reach for the shield out of the corner of his eye as something moves in the cave at the same time.

“Life signs detec-” JARVIS gets out before all hell breaks loose.

It hits Iron Man like the strike of a Cobra, all fluid deadliness and speed. Even Steve's enhanced senses register only a blur of glittering black before it's on the armor. He's moving without a thought, running towards Iron Man as the thing screeches and pins Iron Man to the ground with freakish strength. It's huge, the length of it still mostly hidden by the cave, with rows of grasping legs, and long spiny horns cresting from a maw full of razor sharp teeth. It looks almost like a dragon, but Steve has never seen any book about knights with anything like this in it.

“Cap, catch!” Iron man manages to toss him the shield with what looks like a supreme effort of will, before sparklers and missiles fire at the thing on top of him. Mouths open up all along it's abdomen, alien and horrifying in the glittering brightness of rocket light.

“Oh fuck, is it eating them, shit, get this off me, I can't-” Iron Man is struggling wildly, but he's held fast, Steve's ears ring with the sound of explosions, the shriek of claws on metal as the thing braces one of it's clawed appendages over the reactor at the center of the armor's chest.

Steve lets the shield fly, slapping the hand away with a sickening crunch of chitinous tissue. It hisses at him, coiling around Tony, serpentine and constricting, and Steve can't lose him to some monster. He springs off of a tree, landing on a black scaly shoulder and slamming the shield down into the joint.

“Winghead you're out of your mind, your arm is broken-get off of it, get off, the reactor is going to-” Iron Man says frantically.  Steve has a split second to throw himself to the side, the monster slams another hand back down on the reactor, claws boring through the armor like a hot knife through butter. Iron Man makes a truly horrifying sound over the comms, and then the reactor is shooting a giant beam of concentrated energy through the creature. A protective measure in the event of someone trying to take the arc no doubt. For a moment it seems to have stopped the monster, it rears back, hissing and spitting, but the respite lasts only a moment before it's grabbing at the Armor's chest again.

“Thor, Avengers, we need you now, now, get over here!” Steve calls over the line, not waiting for an affirmative to throw himself and everything he has into trying to get Iron Man free. Missiles pop and explode, but it doesn't seem to do anything. Steve's lungs burn, and his arm aches as he hits the creature with everything he's got, but it's not enough. Over the chaos he hears the sound of glass cracking. Iron Man screams, just as lightening slams into the hard scaly shell of the monster.

“Níðhöggr you have no business on Midgard, return to whence you came!” Thor's booming voice has never been so welcome. The beast stills, head raising to stare over at Thor with dark void filled eyes. It speaks then, but Steve can't make heads or tails of what's being said, it's definitely not English. Thor understands though, his face growing thunderous as his namesake.

“Release him and return, or face the wrath of a son of Odin, beast.” That as it turns out was not the right thing to say. It lunges at Thor, but the Aesir meets it head on, the sound of them clashing blowing back debris and trees with the force of it. Hawkeye is knocked from his perch, but he clambers to an outcropping of rocks to fire arrows at a blindingly fast speed. Widow and Captain Marvel join the fray moments later, Powerman and Jewel trail them just barely, but Steve can't focus on that right now.

“Iron Man, check in, status.” He kneels beside the armor, helping Iron Man sit up.

“I'm...okay, systems still online, we're good. What the fuck is that thing?” The glass of the reactor is cracked, smoking holes in the armor around the glowing circle where the creature had clearly intended to rip it out.

“It almost got the arc, you would have been stuck then.” Iron Man doesn't say anything to that, letting Steve pull him to his feet silently.

“Heimdall, open the Bifrost, I call you to banish this creature into the dark.” Thor calls, drawing their attention from each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Iron Man press a gauntleted hand over his chest. The comm line is silent from his end, Steve feels concern well up, a question on the tip of his tongue, when the other Avengers scatter back as a blinding flash of light fills the clearing. The monster rears up, voice cacophonous and deafening as it's torn away from the Earth in a dazzling display of light and sound. When it's gone only a great ring of twisting runes remains.

“Is it dead?” Steve asks, supporting Iron Man as he lists sideways in the armor. Thor looks up, expression grim.

“No. Tis not dead, only banished. I fear it will appear again. Someone or something brought it to Midgard for a purpose, and they will likely summon it again.” It's rare to see Thor with such a grave expression, but grave it is. “ 'Tis a dangerous thing to summon the Níðhöggr, it obeys only as it wishes. Many have thought to bend it to their will, but they were all of them fools. They who brought it here will try again.” Iron Man straightens up, taking his weight off of Steve's shoulder.

“What does it want, why was it here?” He sounds steady, but there's an edge of brittleness just beneath the surface that Steve doesn't like one bit.

“I believe-” Thor starts slowly, casting his gaze around the clearing. “this was a test, but it seems to be particularly interested in _you_ Man of Iron. It said you had 'the heart he craves so deeply.' I know not who it is the Níðhöggr referred to, but it has taken an interest in you.” Steve wants to find whatever godforsaken space rock the thing has been banished to and beat it to a bloody pulp.

“Well that's comforting.” Iron Man murmurs under his breath, Steve hears the fine tremor in the words even quiet as they are. The reactor sparks then, a thin spiderwebbing of cracks spreading across the glass. Iron Man hisses, clapping a hand over the glowing light. Steve lets go of Iron Man for a moment to hook the shield to the holder on his back, stepping in close once more to wrap his uninjured arm around Warm smooth metal.

“Need to get back to the quinjet, have a spare in there. If I don't it's lights out and I'll be..trapped in here. Can still get out but I'd rather not.” Iron Man sounds shaky, something in the cadence of his voice setting off alarm bells.  He can't let him leave alone.  Steve taps him as he assumes his flight pose.

“Coming with you Shellhead, need to ice this arm anyway right?” Steve asks gently. Iron Man just nods, saying nothing as Steve steps up onto his boot. “Avengers, we'll reconvene in the jet, scout around and see if you can find anything about who might have brought that thing here.” Takeoff is gentle after that-nothing like the adrenaline fueled soaring of their usual trips through the air. Steve clings tight, wishing he could get the helmet off and see for sure that the man in the armor is really safe and healthy. That is impossible though, so he settles for taking measured breaths, willing the pounding of his heart to calm.

The flight back to the quinjet is much slower and quieter than usual. Iron Man scans his arm periodically, murmuring to JARVIS in that strange language he's heard him use with the bots down in the lab. “I can't believe you jumped on that thing with your arm broken.” He's says finally after an indeterminate amount of time.

“It was hurting you.” Steve says without a second thought.

“Yeah and. It could have _killed_ you Cap, did you think of that?” Iron Man sounds angry even through the voice modulation.  Steve frowns, locking eyes with glowing blue eyeslits.

“Dangers of the job. I couldn't just stand by like a lump while it hurt you, and it _was_ hurting you so don't even try that with me.” Steve bulldozes over the objection he can already hear forming. Iron Man goes silent. Wind whistles by them, cool and bracing even through the insulation of his tactical gear.

“Don't. You're...you're Captain America, the world spins on without me, but it needs you Winghead. Needs you more than me.” Steve is struck again with the powerful desire to find the people who made Tony feel so low about himself and seeing about introducing them to his fists. He knows it's a hollow sentiment, and too late at that, but it's still a satisfying fantasy.

“Bullshit.” Steve says with feeling.  “You're my friend, and you've been at this Avengers game longer than I've been awake from nap-time, so I'm telling _you. Don't._ Do not devalue yourself because you're one of the best people I've ever met. If you think I'd be alright if you died while I stood by and did nothing you've got another thing coming. So get that through your hollow bucket head.” Maybe he ought to tone it down, but he can't.  Not when his best friend in this world is talking about himself like that.  Iron Man's breath catches, the arm he has around Steve tightening enough to be felt clearly through the padding of his suit.

“Mister Stark would just find someone else to pilot the suit.” Iron Man says quietly. “I was..sick for a while. There were other pilots lined up for the job. There's only one you though, I can't think of anyone else throwing the shield like you.” Even though he's speaking in past tense, Steve feels a wave of terror slice through him as surely as any knife. Tony had been sick, or maybe even dying as his words imply. Steve imagines an absent spot at his side, waking in a world without Tony Stark in it, and even worse, Tony silently suffering alone, bound to secrecy by the identity he keeps so closely.

“The suit's just a fancy tin can without you in it Shellhead, the pilot makes the plane, and you're an amazing pilot, so I'm gonna say it again. Don't devalue yourself.” _I love you_ he wants to say _I don't know where I would be without you._ But he holds it close, locks it down, maybe someday Tony will trust him enough to take the armor off, but Steve knows a hard boundary when it's wrapped in gold titanium alloy in front of him.

“If you say so Cap.” Iron Man still doesn't sound convinced, but the quinjet comes into view before Steve can get another speech going. They come to a careful landing just as the bay doors open. Steve steps off gleaming boots, just in time to steady Iron Man as he staggers.

“Alright there Shellhead?” He asks, staring worriedly down at the reactor where more tiny hairline cracks have appeared on the glass.

“Yeah no sweat, go ice your arm, I'll be in the hold, got the-” He huffs when the reactor buzzes a little more loudly. “spare in a safe here.” Steve nods despite not wanting to leave, helping Iron Man up into the plane before closing the doors to the hold and going for an icepack from the first aid cooler near the cockpit. From behind the doors a loud clatter sounds, followed by a heavy thump. Steve's head jerks up, his feet carrying him over to the doors of the cargo hold almost before he's processed his own intent.

“Iron Man?” He asks, but there's no answer. Steve mulls it over, but Iron Man could be unconscious or worse, so he cracks the door open to peer into the space. Bright blue light draws his gaze immediately to the figure half collapsed in the corner.

He's on his knees in cargo hold just by a stack of Clint's ammo, Clenched in one hand is another arc reactor. It's wow. A lot bigger than Steve thought it was. He wonders how thick the chest plating of the armor must be, the dimensions look impossible. Over the comms his breathing sounds shattered, nothing like the relative calm Iron man has maintained up until this moment.

“Shellhead, how long have you been feeling-let me help what can I do?” Steve takes an abortive step closer only to be stopped as Iron Man raises a hand.

“Sorry Cap, need privacy for...for this. Just give me a moment I'll be fine.” The reactor makes a high whining sound and he hunches in the armor, even through the distortion of the speakers, his hiss of pain is loud. Another realization startles through Steve. If it's Tony in there then the reactor likely sits right over his pacemaker. Steve feels himself go cold.

“I'll give you the all clear when I'm done. Right now I need you to get-” Iron man's breath rasps, he coughs twice. “get out, please. Worry about your arm.” The words are harsh but his tone of voice is desperate. Steve fights every instinct in himself telling him to go and help his first friend in this century and the man he loves, but there's a line being drawn here. Steve knows if he crosses it everything will be over. So he nods sharply, turning his back and stepping out of the cargo bay back into the cockpit. Every step feels leaden, his arm aches, but it seems distant, unimportant. He can't shake the image from his mind of the reactor cracking, of Iron Man's startled cry-of a gauntleted hand holding something that looks far too large to be superficial in skintight armor.

A strange series of sounds follows from behind the door, then the crunch and whir technology between metal. Iron Man must have crushed the old reactor. Even in the safety of the jet the concern for someone picking up his old tech seems to run strong.

A short span of minutes passes before Iron Man is stepping into the room with him. The slump in his shoulders is gone, a new reactor glows brightly out of the armors chest. “You alright Shellhead?” he asks, but Iron Man doesn't reply, stepping close instead to adjust the icepack on his arm before speaking.

"I'm peachy, just a tech swap, you're the one with the broken bones here.” That might be so, but something about the reactor niggles at his subconscious. It's just too _large._ Steve feels like he's missing some crucial piece of the puzzle.

“The reactor.” Steve starts.  Iron Man hums, scanning over his injured arm again.

“What about it-wow you're already starting to heal some.” Iron Man sounds distracted, but Steve presses on.

“It's pretty big, a lot bigger than I thought it was.” Steve continues, refusing to be side-tracked.  The faceplate tips up, eyeslits staring at him so intensely that Steve almost apologizes, before the bay is opening and Clint is yelling up the ramp.

“That is what she said.” Clint all but crows.  Iron Man's groan is almost drowned out by Clint's resultant yelp when Jan pokes him between the ribs. He wonders how Clint heard them before it dawns on him that he never turned his own group comms off. He would feel sheepish about it, but he's not ashamed of anything he said, and he's sure the team feels the same way he does about the thought of losing Iron Man-even if they don't have quite the same place for him locked away in their hearts.

The usual banter is much more subdued than usual. Steve notes several concerned glances aimed both at himself and Iron Man on their trip back to the mansion. Iron Man seems to be resolutely ignoring the rest of them, staring out the window and watching the scenery fly by with a palm pressed over the arc.

“We'll debrief tomorrow, I think we could all use a shower and some rest first.” He gets no objections to that; everyone filing out of the jet to trek to their respective bathrooms for some relaxation. Iron Man walks next to him, coming to a halt in front of Steve's door.

“You don't need to put that in a sling, it's almost undetectable under long sleeved shirts too. Just wear a hoodie or a sweater if you don't want anyone seeing it. I know you're probably still going to be ridiculous and go on one of your jogs.” Steve really does _not_ want to think about why Tony would have made something capable of hiding broken bones beneath his clothing. It's impressive, but it also makes Steve want to wrap him in that funny plastic bubble wrap they use for shipping glassware now.

“You know me so well, go get some rest Shellhead, get yourself checked over too.” Steve grits his teeth to keep from saying more, to pull him back and beg him to strip out of the armor so Steve can run his hands all over him, just to make sure he's whole and alright-but he doesn't, he turns away and takes a shower so scalding hot it almost makes him forget about cold mountain air and the clattering of wheels over train tracks.

He lays in bed after that, staring up at the ceiling and knowing that sleep is unlikely to come tonight. The splint is as comfortable as it can be, despite the persistent healing ache that tells him the serum is definitely still working.

“Captain Rogers-” JARVIS says hesitantly.

“Sir was asking after you earlier, he heard of your predicament and was deeply concerned. It would seem you are not currently asleep so I thought it acceptable to bring to your attention.” JARVIS hasn't finished speaking before Steve is sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rising to his feet.

“Thank you Jarvis. Where is he now?”

“He is in the music room, I believe he would appreciate your company.” The AI briefly illuminates a map of the mansion across his wall, one tiny red dot blinking where Tony must be, and Steve already has the layout of the place memorized, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Steve nods, careful not to make much noise as he walks down to the room in question. The doors to the room are open, spilling light and warmth out into the hall. A roaring fire burns in the fireplace, logs crackle and pop filling the space with rich golden and orange light. Tony is laid out on his side in a veritable nest of pillows with an oversized white crochet blanket draped over his form. Warm light slants over his features, catching on the gleam of his barely open eyes. The span of his palm is pressed against his chest, a lovingly polished violin sits on a stand just beside the pillows. A book of sheet music; old and worn as if it belongs to a time even before his own is propped up on a table nearby, but Tony's gaze is fixed on the fire, clearly lost in thought.

“Still up?” Steve asks, Tony jumps slightly, levering himself up on the pillows to blink tiredly over at where he stands in the doorway.

“Yeah, how's the arm, mobility good with the splint? How's your pain, Iron Man told me about your little painkiller problem-” Tony looks like he's gearing up for another twenty questions, so Steve steps closer, crouching down beside the cushion nest to take Tony's hands in his, rubbing his fingers over skin that's still cool despite the heat being given off by the fireplace.

“Mobility is great, best I've ever had after a break, and the pain is pretty negligible.” He says, smiling warmly.  Tony murmurs something under his breath about painkillers, twining their fingers together and peering up at Steve with painful uncertainty.

“Will you uh..will you sit with me? Kind of chilly tonight.  I know you don't like the cold much and neither do I, makes my skin itch.” The thought of being so close to Tony, wrapped up in a blanket and surrounded by pillows is about the most comforting thing his mind has come up with since getting on that damned train. Steve feels something miserable and unpleasant unknot and fade away as he slips behind Tony, mindful not to lay on his injured arm. The pillows are soft and warm beneath him, but not as warm as the man curling into his arms. Tony sighs quietly, turning to face him and tucking his head up under Steve's chin. He plucks at the fabric of Steve's shirt, breathing into the scant space between their bodies.

“Couldn't sleep, JARVIS said you were up so I came looking.” Steve whispers, afraid somehow that if he speaks loudly it will startle Tony away.

“Yeah I'm up, but I kind of don't want to be.” Tony says, then softer. “I was worried about you.” Steve kisses the top of Tony's head, rubbing his cheek over dark soft hair, carefully curling both arms around the warm body pressed all along his. Tony practically melts against him, sliding his arms under Steve's and around his back in a loose hug.

“It's okay, I'm fine, the splint works great, and Iron Man set it perfectly.” He hopes it's enough to assuage whatever self imposed guilt Tony has about the whole thing.  Tony tilts his head back, gaze roving over Steve's face searchingly. He's clearly exhausted, dark smudges beneath his eyes, faint pinching around the corners denoting strain. Beneath the comforting smell of woodsmoke Steve catches a whiff of something cool and minty. He wants to ask Tony how Iron Man is doing, to see if he will get a better status report based upon that. There's no doubt in Steve's mind that Tony is probably all bruised up again beneath his soft sweater, and whatever the half shirt is that Steve can feel the lines of when tony pressed close. He keeps his peace though; well aware that Tony guards his secrets as he does few other things.

“Stay?” Tony says, laying back on the pillows, tugging Steve to lay half atop him. “You're tired too, and I know...I know you have a hard time sleeping. It's good like this, here. With you.” Steve blinks his eyes open, unaware of when they closed.

He noses over Tony's throat, along the sharp line of his jaw, smiling against warm skin when Tony leans his head back and closes his eyes. Maybe it's strange to sleep next to the person you're sweet on like this before you've taken them out on the town, but he wants it with such powerful intensity that is almost leaves him shaking. Cold, it was so cold on the train, and no one _really_ touches him anymore-no one but Tony, and occasionally Iron Man. His bed is huge and empty, but Tony is right here, sliding fingers through his hair and whispering to him in sleep slurry Italian peppered with endearments that Steve remembers from the war. So he tucks the blankets around them; the canopy of pale fabric glows orange in crackling firelight, illuminating the tilt of Tony's face up towards his when he traces over Tony's cheekbones and rubs tiny circles over the smooth skin there.

“Yeah, I'll stay, it's cold tonight, I'd love to.” Steve says, watching the flicker of Tony's long lashes as he fights to stay awake.  Tony makes a sound of contentment, rubbing his heel over Steve's calf where their legs are pressed together. His lips part on a sigh when Steve kisses his cheek. “We're just gonna sleep though, so no hanky panky.”

Tony snorts in response, cracking his eyes open to fix Steve with a mock glare.  “What kind of boy do you think I am-wait don't answer that.”

Steve laughs, arranging them so that he's not crushing Tony beneath him on the pillows-although Tony didn't seem to have any complaints either way.  It's quiet after that, the two of them trading gentle hesitant touches, until Tony drifts off, wrapped up in Steve's arms with a slight half smile on his face. Steve watches him for a time, until the fire burns low and the only sounds in the room are the beating of his own heart, and the gentle electrical buzz of Tony's pacemaker. The last thing he registers before sleep sweeps him away is JARVIS' soft goodnight.

 


	8. Cuscuta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings for panic attacks here, and there's a scene where someone throws up, so please be aware-here there be angst.
> 
> This chapter is in Tony's POV

 

The Maria Stark Foundation gala is upon them before Tony really has time to mentally prepare himself. Maybe he shouldn't be going to a big public event right after something tried to rip his arc reactor out, he's still hurting dully from the bruising, and his nerves have been in a near constant state of uproar since the incident in the Smokies, but Tony has been keeping his mind carefully distracted. He's been too busy trying to find the answer to his nanite issue, SHIELD contracts, S.I. Projects, and keeping his bruises and mortal terror concealed to have an existential crisis about the fact that he's asked Captain America to be his plus one. He wonders if his mom would have approved of Steve, he hopes she would have-in a way this will be like introducing him in spirit. Maybe that's a silly sentimental thought, but he's allowed to be sappy in his own head if he wants to be. That and he there's no way Tony is passing up the opportunity to see Steve in formal wear. Tonight will truly be a test of Tony's restraint.

As if reading his mind, Steve joins him in the garage where he's been waiting-looking so sharp in his tux that Tony feels like he might put an eye out if he stares so long. Steve seems to be having the same problem. He smiles so brightly that Tony thinks the sun must still be out after all instead of setting as the laws of nature dictate.

“You clean up nice Mister Stark.” He says, stepping in close to take Tony's hand and pressing a kiss against his knuckles. Tony resists the urge to do something really undignified, but it's a close call. Happy can tell though, he's holding the door to the limo open and looking so smug it's a wonder he can even still stand under the weight of it.

“Yeah uh, you look. Your shoulders are _really_ broad wow, I could just hang off of you like a koala.” Tony babbles, eyes widening when Steve kisses his cheek. Tony is grateful that the man seems to find his inability to make any sort of sense around him charming. Who can blame him though? What is a level head when Steve Rogers is being all complimentary and romantic? Tony is going to do something really drastic soon, he can feel it in his bones. Either that or he's just going to drop dead from the tension.

“You um. Ready for a full night of me being a complete asshole for charity?” Tony asks, stepping into the limo with Steve right behind him.

“You're going to be incredible.” Steve says as if he heard nothing of the last sentence. Tony just blinks when Steve leans in close to pin an anemone flower and a pale pink rose to the lapel of his tux.

“JARVIS helped me pick them out.” He says by way of explanation, smoothing his hands over the jacket and sitting back. Tony looks down at the flowers, then up at Steve, then back down at the flowers. Steve just keeps throwing him for a loop, he has no idea what to say to this, and what's worse, the tips of his ears are heating up. _What the ever loving fuck is happening?_

“You hands are a little cold.” Steve murmurs, taking both of his hands and rubbing them between his. “Is it too chilly in here?” Tony shakes his head.

“No it...I.” He squints down at their hands but doesn't pull away. “I have shitty circulation. Bum ticker, sometimes I just get cold.” Steve nods, sitting right up against Tony on the long limo bench and seemingly deciding to be his own personal hand warmer.

The rest of the Avengers will be at the gala too, but they are showing up on their own time. Tony hopes no one besmirches their honor in front of Thor. He tends to take any rude statements about the Avengers as a personal affront. He wonders if anyone will manage to wrangle the man into a tux. Or Barton. Last Tony had seen, Natasha and Carol were trying to wrestle Legolas into formal-wear in the same way one might go about putting a sweater on a recalcitrant cat. Tony will watch that video later and bask in the screaming.

“Are you ready for this?” Tony asks when the limo pulls up to the long red carpet leading into the hotel hosting the foundation. Photographers line the sides, cameras already out and snapping pictures of the guests already making their way up the long walkway. The hotel was a gift from Howard to his mother after a particularly bad blowout. He knows Maria would have enjoyed the thought of her son guilting cash out of the elite in a building she received through the same emotion. His mother had been full of such poetic justice.

“I'm ready, and I've got you at my side, right?” Steve's nervous little smile ought to come with a warning.  Tony swallows, squeezing Steve's hands reassuringly.

“Right. Of course. Okay, let's do this.” He taps on the window twice, stepping out into the blinding flash of cameras when Happy opens the door. Steve is right behind him, looking vaguely uncomfortable but still ready to throw a punch if anyone gets so close. The flashes start going with even more intensity when JARVIS lands Iron Man behind them.

“Hey Shellhead, keep these vultures off your boss.” Steve murmurs, ignoring Tony's cough.

“Of course, what are bodyguard's for but to keep their charges safe from all manner of harm?” Oh the sarcasm. _JARVIS you little shit._

Tony stops to plug the foundation's goals now and then, but the walk up to the ballroom where the gala is being hosted goes smoothly. Once inside Tony goes backstage to prepare for his speech. He's stretching out his fingers and mentally rehearsing despite knowing full well it's unnecessary-when Steve comes up behind him.

“Can I give you a hug? For luck and all. I know you do this kind of stuff all the time, but I gotta show a little appreciation.” Steve really is completely unaware of his effect on him.  Tony laughs, wondering yet again how a man like Steve Rogers can be real.

“Yeah, hug away, go for it, but no groping, I have to be presentable in a minute Captain Handsome.” He wouldn't really object to a little groping, truth be told, but he's trying to behave.  Steve hums, pulling Tony back against his chest, wrapping his arms around Tony's waist and setting his chin on Tony's shoulder. Tony sighs, leaning back against Steve and resting his arms over Steve's where they drape low on his waist. Steve just holds him like that, kissing his cheek now and then, and stroking his fingers over the backs of Tony's hands until one of the organizer's comes back to give him the cue.

“Do your thing, I'm sure you're much better at it than I was at selling war-bonds.” Tony snorts. He's seen the reels-Steve underestimates the power of his smile and his ridiculous eyelashes.

“I Would have bought war-bonds from you babe.” He blows kisses at Steve and winks as he backs up towards the stage. The sight of Steve's cheeks going a little pink buoys him even as he flits around the stage and sells himself and his vision with words that use just enough guilt and self aggrandizement to get these people to open their wallets. It makes him feel slimy. Contrary to popular belief, the Playboy Asshole Persona is something he employs rather than something he _is._ When he steps off the stage donations are still coming in.

There will be one more speech to wring the last few dollars from the stone at the end of the night, but for now it's dinner and dancing. Tony has always hated this part. The bigger the donation, the more he is expected to make nice with the donor. Sometimes it's alright, but other times not so much. Tony has lost count of various vulgar propositions he has received over the years. People get awfully brave when they're full of expensive booze and dropping huge sums of money.

His mood is lifted slightly by the sight of the other Avengers all decked out in formal wear. Thor is in a sequined tuxedo. Tony blinks at it. _Sparkly._ His mind supplies. Jan must have made it, she is talking to a gobsmacked looking socialite in a long black and gold number of her own design while looking at him with supreme satisfaction. Thor wanders around in armor all the time, Tony supposes wearing glittery stuff is par for the course on Asgard, still-he's really pulling those sequins off.

Hawkeye is on the dance floor, shoving food in his mouth and talking with Natasha. Tony is surprised the arms on his tux are still intact. As if sensing his gaze, Natasha's head turns. She looks stunning as always, in a floor length green dress that sets off the red in her hair. She's probably armed to the teeth, she always is. He wouldn't be surprised if she slept cradling a bazooka.

Steve and Sam are across the room dipping strawberries in a chocolate fountain while Carol appears to be glaring a general into submission. There is a story there, he's sure of it. Other Avengers are around as well, he spots Luke Cage and Jessica Jones dancing together in one of the less busy corners of the dancefloor. He didn't expect all of them to come, the only ones missing are the Spider-Kid and Bruce. Spidey has school, and Bruce is off on one of his adventures and does not do...well with events like these and declined the invite despite Tony offering to fly him in.

JARVIS stays with him as he navigates the constant conversations, hand shaking and ass kissing that always goes on at these functions. It's nice to have friends at one of these things, Rhodey couldn't make it, and Pepper is in Tokyo for a week. He misses them but they have lives of their own, no matter how much it makes Tony want to take his private jet and pop up at their hotel rooms. He's a mature adult man, he doesn't need constant attention and validation.

“Put a pink swizzle stick in my whiskey, I feel fancy.” He says to the bartender, dropping a few large bills into his tip jar when he gets not one but _two_ sparkly glass sticks in his very nice glass of top shelf single malt.

“If I might say sir, you are always quite fancy, have we exceeded a particular baseline?” JARVIS snarks, and Tony just points at the flowers pinned to his lapel with an expansive gesture. “I got flowers, I am the prettiest, fanciest person here.” He thinks about that for a moment. “No scratch that, _Steve_ takes that title, but we can't have it all.” JARVIS just hums thoughtfully.

Eventually he makes it out to the garden. It's a cool night, just edging on too cold, but Tony needs out of the gala for a little while. The air smells like flowers. He remembers his mother planting night blooming Jasmine all over the place here and smiles. Music floats out from inside the hotel, but Tony pays it no mind; walking through the garden paths and sipping his drink slowly-only to be stopped by JARVIS grabbing his arm and stepping smoothly in front of him.

“What the,” He starts, coming to a halt when Justin Hammer comes strolling down the path like a walking talking infestation of crabs.

“Tony, Tony, great to see you here, just the guy I was looking for.” Hammer sounds like Tony is crashing his own party instead of the one doing the crashing. There is not enough whiskey in the world for this, but standing behind the armor will only encourage him. The moron.

“Hammer, still alive and kicking, did you take care of that rash or does your face just look like that?”

“Knew you were in town and I thought to myself, so am I. Just had to come out here and see what you've been getting up to. Building water treatment plants, Polio vaccines, medical tech, you sure have been busy. Hey Iron Man is here too, but you can skedaddle I need to talk to your boss now.” Hammer has really always had an incredibly overblown opinion of his own importance, but trying to shoo off a superhero is a new one.  Tony rolls his eyes so hard he wonders if they might fall out of his head. JARVIS elects to say nothing, staring at Hammer from over Tony's shoulder with what Tony can only describe as quiet menace. Hammer is undaunted though, because he is as ever a complete twit.

“As always talking to you is a Sisyphean endeavor. I feel like any minute now a vulture is going to swoop down and start picking at my liver. But I'm getting my metaphors mixed up. What do you want?” Tony is not playing nice with this asshole, not even for a moment.  Hammer just laughs, ignoring Tony's blatant hostility as he always does. Tony sips his drink at him in a way he hopes conveys his bitter contempt.

"Always such a _kidder._ Nothing like your mentor at all, he was so serious, used to make me kind of nervous.” Tony feels himself go cold all over. “But you know, Obie knew how to play the game, knew a good thing when he saw it, a good alliance, partnership. Listen, I'm working on something big, something _profitable_ and I need a power source, big power source and you have-” Tony cuts him off sharply.

“Obie huh, didn't know you were so close.” Ice clinks against the rim of his half empty whiskey tumbler when Tony swirls it with affected casualness. Tony is typically a glass half full kind of person, but a conversation with Justin Hammer can make any cup look low on alcohol.

“Oh yeah, real titan in the industry, but you'd know that wouldn't you Tony?” Hammer continues talking, his voice grating over Tony's nerves like nails on a chalkboard.  Tony stares into his glass, watching the amber liquid melt the ice-changes in states of matter, transference of energy, the melting point of gold titanium alloy-anything to avoid really thinking about this conversation.  “Real shame what happened to him.” Hammer says, nodding solemnly

“It's really interesting watching a you pretend at sympathy. Like seeing a dog walk on two legs. Fascinating.” The whiskey is a really nice vintage. It tastes like ash in his mouth. Ash and sand.

Hammer keeps talking, immune to Tony's visceral disdain as he always is. “Watched your eulogy, the speech you gave for him was really” Hammer takes a drink of his martini, hand over his heart in an exaggerated pantomime of grief. Tony wants to plant his fist right in his bleached chiclet veneer teeth. “really touching”

Tony feels sick. He remembers the texture of the cue cards in his hands. Thick card-stock warping between his shaking fingers while he stood at the podium to speak of his love for a man who had tried to take everything-who had succeeded on taking everything from people much more innocent than one Anthony Edward Stark. It had been all he could do to not toss the cards down and tell all those gathered the truth, but he had a role to play, and if dear old dad had taught him anything, it was how to pretend to care about someone for the public.

Afterwards-after the false condolences-too many hands patting his shoulder-too many people wanting a piece of his grief-after that he vomits in the too pristine funeral home bathroom. His reflection in the mirror looks jagged. _Who am I to have survived when better men died?_

The high sound of glass cracking alerts him to the way his breath is rasping in his chest. In his hand a fine spiderwebbing of cracks runs through the whiskey tumbler. Hammer is still talking. Tony wonders if he would shut the fuck up if he threw up on his hideous alligator loafers. Probably not. Behind him JARVIS has gone terribly still in the suit, but his head is too full to contemplate what that means.

“I want in, I want a piece of the pie. Obie was dealing and you might be playing house with superheroes or whatever the hell it is you do to keep your conscience clean but I _know_ you Tony. The apple can't fall far from the tree, and Obie was a damn good tree. Always had a few presents for me if you catch my drift.” Objectively Tony knows Stane could not have been working alone. After the truth came out, Tony had taken great pains to clean out his company, but then he had been dying-poisoned by the very thing keeping him alive and making sure his employees and his friends' were taken care of took precedence. He thinks of Hammer, clinging to the coattails of those smarter, more powerful and richer than himself. A remora feeding on the cast offs of more dangerous sharks-but hanger on or not, the remora still gets places.

“You might be pretending, but we're the same kind of guy, right at the heart of things.” And he's looking at Tony's chest, hand outstretched to touch. There's a moment where all the air seems to leave him, something rising up in Tony like the wave of a destroying cataclysm. He knows in that moment that if Hammer touches him the idiot may not live to regret the act. Tony may play at being a strutting socialite, but he _is_ an Avenger. Against him, Hammer won't really stand a chance, that seems unimportant when he sees the covetous gleam in Hammer's eyes. H _e's not Stane, get yourself together, he's not Stane_ , and despite knowing he can't stop the screaming terror overtaking his mind, _protect yourself, protect the reactor, don't let him take it don't let him take it._

His hand never makes contact.

Tony hears the whir of servos, and then he's being pushed behind gleaming red metal. He stumbles back slightly, and the armor reaches back to steady him. Glowing eye slits stare into his for just a moment before JARVIS turns his gaze to Hammer-and wow. It's easier to appreciate how extremely intimidating the armor is when he's not encased in it.

“Ceasing recording now, thank for that. I am invoking the law of one party consent, as of now this conversation is over. Thank you for your contribution.” JARVIS is the best, Tony thinks distantly.  Hammer starts sputtering, getting right up in Iron Man's face. Or he would, if he could reach.

“Tony, Tony, call off your dog, cut me a deal.” Hammer continues, seemingly unconcerned that he's admitted to colluding with Stane on a recording, or just how close he came to having Tony punch him directly in the trachea.  “I've got plans, you've got the arc reactor technology, it could be beautiful, you and me work-” He doesn't get to finish, JARVIS pulls his hand up and backhands hammer in such a perfect arc that Tony thinks he might need to make a gif of it later. Hammer spins like a ballerina on point, squealing with terror and going down like a sack of bricks. It may be the most beautiful thing Tony has ever seen.

For a moment it's enough to cut through the panic making his hearing fuzz in and out, but it's soon back full force. His glass drops, shattering on the ground and spilling watered down whiskey everywhere. JARVIS is listing off legal offenses to a cowering Justin Hammer. He hears something about conspiracy to commit treason before he's putting his head between his knees and trying to get his breathing back under control. The grass is nice and soft at least, even if the air coming into his lungs burns with the force of his inhales.

Vaguely he becomes aware of someone crouched near by, only the smell of old fashioned cologne keeps him from flinching back violently. Steve is here, speaking in low soothing tones at just enough distance away that Tony doesn't feel the pressing urge to do something inadvisable.

“Tony, Tony can you hear me? What do you need? Iron man, what's happening?”

JARVIS' reply is lost on him, but he gathers enough wit together to rasp out “Get him out, get him, he is not supposed to be here, not on the guest list.” Steve sits with him while JARVIS drags Hammer off to parts unknown. Crickets chirp, the sound of nightbirds slowly brings Tony around, as does Steve's constant stream of words.

“Shoulda told Iron Man to hit him again.” Steve mutters, and Tony's head snaps up.

“I...have to-” Then he's up, staggering through the garden and banging through the outer doors to stumble into a bathroom. Dimly he's aware of Steve having followed him into the room, but that seems unimportant compared to making it to his destination. He has a moment to think _well this is familiar_ in some distant part of his mind before he's on his knees retching with such force that his vision grays around the edges.

“Tony, oh god, baby no.” Tony can't even begin to compute that statement, holding onto the grab bar next to the toilet for dear life.

“I'm going to touch you, okay?” Steve says, all caution and worry, and affection that Tony can't possibly have earned.  Tony just groans, trying to stave off the nausea, the grab bar is cold against his clammy forehead. Warm hands stroke over his back in slow soothing circles, and Tony shudders. He feels rotten. As if something has climbed into his skin and made its home there. Sometimes he forgets what he used to be, _who_ he used to be. Being Iron Man, living in a mansion full of people that for some reason seem to actually _like_ him makes the crash back to earth that much worse.

“Let's get you home, I bet Happy will have the limo around in no time.”

“No.” Tony grits out. Steve's hand stills on his back. Tony turns finally to look at him. He doesn't think he's ever seen Steve look quite this agitated. He looks like he would really really enjoy going back and kicking the shit out of Hammer.

“No. If I..if I leave now some of the donations might fall through.” Tony shakes his head, raking a hand over his face.

“Tony it's okay.” Steve is so sweet, so concerned. Tony wants to throw up again.

“No it's not _okay_!” Tony shouts, dragging himself to his feet on unsteady legs. “I leave and the show is over-they want a Tony Stark Performance. I leave now and that's less water treatment plants, less of everything. I leave now and that's blood on my hands Steve.”

“Okay Tony, whatever you want. I'd like to stay by your side though, please. If you'll let me.” So earnest, always so earnest. Even in the face of Tony losing his shit in a fancy hotel bathroom, Steve isn't running away. Tony has absolutely no idea what to do with that.

“Fine, okay. Iron Man is off feeding Hammer to SHIELD right now as it is...I think? Not important. Okay.” He adjusts his suit, splashes his face with water and rinses his mouth out. _Just like old times._ They leave the washroom after that. Steve stays nearby while Tony shakes hands, turns on the charm and dazzles in turns. It's a glorious facade, a tribute to the golden idiot he used to be. He collects millions from people who have probably never even tasted water from a tap; charms it right out of their bloated bank accounts and into something that matters.

That changes nothing though. His mouth still tastes like blood and sand.

 

* * *

 

 Later, much later Happy brings the limo around and helps him in. He misses the concerned look Happy shoots at Steve and his answering headshake-too busy pouring himself a drink from the car's minibar, too drained to do anything but down one glass before slumping back on a wide bench seat with another in his hand. The ice clinks as Happy pulls away smoothly from the curb. Tony closes his eyes and tries not to think of explosions. He _hates_ being driven, letting Happy actually do his job had been a concession to appearances. Only knowing that they're taking a different route than the one used to get to the gala allows him to keep his very shaky calm. He takes a long sip of his drink to try and keep the nausea at bay.

“I'm going down to the lab when we get back. I have a lot to work on.” He finally says, surprising even himself as he breaks the thick silence.

“Is that really a good idea. You should come and eat something, get some rest.” Steve says softly, carefully, and Tony feels something bitter and ugly curl up in his chest. He regards Steve from the corner of his eye, head tipped back against fine leather, and the words just rise out of him hopeless and bitter and poisonous.

“I don't know what you're doing, but you need to-need to stop. What's your angle, what do you want from me why are you _doing_ this?” There's a part of him that wishes Steve was easy to figure out, that wishes taking one look at Steve didn't fill him with the desperate sort of longing he thought had been left behind before college.

“There's no angle Tony, I'm just worried-and I care about you. If our positions were swapped I think you would...you would help me too.” Steve bites his lip, looking away. “You had a really rough night and working all night might make it even worse.”

Tony closes his eyes again, scrubbing a hand over his face, lifting his head to stare at Steve.  “The last,” He starts-the words punching out of him like shards of glass. “The last time someone tried to do this they wanted something from me. They all want something.” _Eat your food Tony, I brought you pizza from New York Tony._ He thinks with a rising sense of panic. The tumbler in his hand rattles. 

“What do _you_ want Steve? Tell me because I don't get it. You want toys I'll build you a hundred of em you don't have to do this. Or maybe you want to fuck me, go on, I'm easy, ask anyone, I'll spread my legs for you right here, or suck you off if that's more your speed.” He leans back, lets his tuxedo clad thighs fall open; giving Steve an under the lashes glance that screams invitation. He knows some people get off on that whole debauched formal-wear aesthetic, and Tony wears it like a second skin. “Don't worry Happy's seen it all.” He says bitterly.  Steve's face twists with something; anger, but then sadness, and that's not right at all.

“Tony, Tony don't talk about yourself like that-and that's not at all what I want, and I'm sorry, so sorry if I've said something or done something to make you think....to make you think you're not special to me.” Steve scoots closer, dropping to his knees on the carpet so he can get close without looming. His hand rests near Tony, but he doesn't touch, seemingly waiting for Tony to bridge that gap if he wants to. Tony can't look at him.

“It's not that I don't think you can take care of yourself. That's...that's never been what I thought.” Steve takes a deep breath as if he's gathering himself. Distantly he can hear the sound of Happy playing really peppy music behind the divider. _Driver roll up the partition please, it's nothing sexy, just having a breakdown._ Happy knows the drill.

“Sometimes I wake up and I hate this. I hate everything, and I'm angry, so angry because there's nothing I can do and I miss everyone.” Steve starts, and Tony's hand clenches on his glass to hear the misery in his voice. 

“I miss everything so much-everything I left behind. But then you walk in.” Tony raises his head, and Steve is looking at him, really looking at him. There's something like wonder in his eyes.  “- and I feel like, yeah, I'm home. You gave me a purpose, gave me a home. It's not that I don't think you can take care of yourself. Truth is I'm...greedy I want to spend time with you.” Steve smiles ruefully, ducking his head. “Make you come up and eat with us because I miss seeing your face, because I feel like you'll forget me otherwise.” Tony swallows thickly, reaching out to just rest his hand over Steve's where it sits on the seat.

“I'm nothing special, I'm just a kid from Brooklyn. Some days when I feel like I could go back in the ice-I think about that kid from Brooklyn. I think about having met you then, even with the danger I still would want you.” Steve turns his hand, taking Tony's in his and stroking his thumb over Tony's wrist. Tony is well known for never running out of things to say, but he finds he can't speak; afraid to break this moment between them.

“We don't have to hide it though, I don't _want_ to hide it, can't pretend not to feel what I feel about you so it's a good thing I'm here in this century because anyone woulda taken one look at my face and known.” Steve says, and the conviction there, the fervency of his affection is so unlike anything Tony has ever experienced that he has trouble even processing it.  He drops his drink, sinking down onto the floor of the limo with Steve and throwing his arms around him to cling tight. Steve doesn't even hesitate, just holds him close, strokes gentle fingers through his hair the way did that night sitting at his mom's piano-like Tony is special, like he's something _precious._

“Steve-” He says brokenly, and Steve just shushes him, sitting back to kiss over his forehead, over his eyelids when they flutter shut, and he just can't with that. It's too sweet, too open and vulnerable, Steve is hugging him again, pulling him in tight, cradling the back of his skull when Tony rests his head against his shoulder.

“JARVIS has been really helpful adjusting, but in the end it's you. It's always you that shows me how the future is full beautiful wonderful things. But I don't think it would be half as beautiful-” He kisses Tony's hair. “I don't think I could find it so beautiful without you.”

Tony wants to kiss him, wants to cling tight and never let him go. As much as he wants that though, it's not a good idea right this moment. His state of mind is all upside down and sideways. Too many terrible things bubbling below the surface. He might end up clocking Steve across the face if they kiss now. That and Tony's self aware enough to know his mouth probably tastes pretty dreadful right now, but that does nothing to stop him from _wanting._

They stay like that, wrapped together on the gently swaying floor of the limo until Happy pulls into the mansion's garage. Only then does Tony disentangle himself, giving a brief thought to the drink he spilled all over the place, but there's not much to be done for it not. Happy always sends cars off to be detailed after _incidents_ anyway. This is pretty tame by comparison.

“You okay boss?” Happy asks, looking him over intensely upon seeing Steve help him out of the limo.

“Always, never better.” Tony lies.  Beside him Steve frowns, neither of them press the issue. For that, Tony is grateful.  “I'm...going down to the lab. Stuff to work on, got stuff I need. Need to do.” Tony chokes out when the silence goes on too long. Steve squeezes his hand but lets it go.

“Okay, can I bring you some food to the lab? I'll leave it outside the door if you don't want me coming in.” Steve is so sincere, so kind. Tony needs to think though, needs to work. There are a million ideas pinging around in his brain. He remembers that blind panic when the first lines of palladium poisoning appeared around the reactor. Not because he was dying, not really, or not entirely. He still had too much to do, too much to make up for _._ _Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark._ Yinsen's words burn through him with more potency than any hit he's ever taken to the reactor.

“No. I can't keep anything down right now. Have shakes, I'll be good.”

Steve sighs, but he nods, leaning in to brush his lips over Tony's cheek.  “Okay, just don't disappear for too long. Everyone will be sad without you around, and I miss you.” He lets Steve hug him again because there's nothing he can possibly say to that without sounding fucking pathetic. It's so nice to be touched gently, so nice that he almost doesn't want to leave the circle of Steve's arms.

He pushes away though, nodding to Steve and slinking down to the workshop to be alone with his thoughts. When he walks in he has JARVIS cue up the video of him slapping the piss out of Justin Hammer. He emails it to Pepper and Rhodey then he gets to work.

 

* * *

 

Tony comes to on the floor of the lab hours later with a gasp, hand going up to press over the reactor. He sags with relief, rolling on his side and groaning softly. Sleeping on the floor is not the most comfortable thing, especially when a hunk of metal takes a up a good portion of your chest cavity. The bruising from the debacle with the fucking Nidhogg-dragon-whatthefuckever it was definitely does nothing to help matters either. JARVIS has helpfully turned down the lights to a low golden tone, and at some point Dummy must have thrown a blanket over him. Holograms float around near the ceiling like trapped bubbles-waiting to be called back over. Tony just lays there for a moment trying to get his bearings back while the lab stirs back to life around him.

“Sir, shall I call someone, you appeared to be having a nightmare?” Tony shakes his head, licking his dry lips. Dummy rolls up close, clicking and whirring his worry like the great big baby he is. There's a clink. Tony glances to the side to see the bot placing a shake on the floor in a way that can only be described as morose. Tony takes the shake, trying not to spill it while he drinks it through the big bendy straw Dummy tossed in there. Where he got the straw Tony has no idea, but he appreciates not having to sit up to drink it

“Thanks Dummy, good boy.” He murmurs, patting the bot where he can reach. Dummy beeps, rolling off and returning with his mini Cap shield. He drops it in front of Tony, clicking his pincer and giving him a Look.

“No, no Steve, working, I'm working.” Dummy droops. “Later. Later okay, I promise.” That seems to cheer him up, and he's off to go organize Tony's pens. Tony sighs. Even his bot has a crush on Steve. Steve with is too kind words and his honest face. Steve who is hiding enough grief to sink a ship. He thinks again of Yinsen, of a man who lost everything-who lost it all and chose sacrifice. And for what? The equations floating around the ceiling mock him. So close to being workable, but still not enough, and for every hour he doesn't find the solution Hammer is right. He always was better at destroying than creating. Sometimes he thinks Yinsen was wrong.

Don't waste your life, he had said-and tony wonders if he has made up for it yet, if anything he's done can make up for the red soaking his ledger. Tony thinks back on his life; a dirty bomb of poor choices leaving collateral damage wherever he points his memories. Thinks of Steve and his gentleness, and pushes that away.

It will never be enough.

He's not done yet, he doesn't get to rest, not yet.

So he drags himself up off the floor and gets back to work. The holograms fly back over to him, and he swipes through them. Staring at the math until it blurs, until his hands ache from trying new variables, new ways to look at this problem. Bullet wounds, scars that won't heal, limbs taken by landmines with his fucking name on them-Tony can fix this. The nanites are stable, but people they really don't like the idea of stuff living on in their body.

He has programmed inactivity, cell death into the nanites, but that makes them unstable. The Musculoskeletal ones were the simplest, and he doesn't know why those work better than the rest. Bogota, Osaka, Berlin, Barcelona, next month Helsinki, all technological hubs, but no one seems to have the answer he's seeking. Tony swears, rubbing his palms over his tired eyes.

At times like these when he's stuck, his mind drifts back to Stane. Always so encouraging when Tony hit a snag. Always ready to do anything Tony needed to get him through that push of innovation. He wonders how much of was fake, how much was just the figurative dollar signs he could see all over Tony. Itemized like a prize racehorse, and just as ready to put him down when he was no longer useful. Tony wonders sometimes if Obie had ever meant anything he said. He wonders if any of his indulgent smiles and warm hugs were ever sincere. Betrayal is something Tony always expects, but with Obie he didn't see it coming until the man ripped his heart out in every sense of the word.

As much as the torture in Afghanistan had fucked him up, that's not what haunts his nightmares the most. Torturers gonna torture, and terrorists gonna terrorize. He reasons. These things are expected. Sure it was awful, and most days Tony takes surprisingly fast showers for a guy with more than one sunken tub in his mansion; but none of what the ten rings did to him was shocking.

He's cool, he's _got_ this. No sweat.

Or at least that's what he tells himself when he goes to stare at his infinity pool just to prove he can look at it without running. That's all child's play compared to the truly fucked things his subconscious cooks up once he drags his tired carcass to sleep. It's the face of the closest thing he'd had to a father looming over him and hefting a glowing light in broad familiar hands while Tony screams and chokes on his own blood.

He hates that there are still memories battering around of those same hands helping him up and helping him stand firm more times than he can count. He hates that he loved anyone enough for it to skewer him so completely when they inevitably turned on him. He learned the hard way that the universe did not reward Tony Stark's trust.

Which is why it comes as a complete shock that he finds himself believing in Steve-and in the Avengers. Tony thinks that maybe he should know better, but none of them seem to have ulterior motives. They welcome him as both Iron Man and as Tony Stark, even though the two of them are so different they may as well be two different people. He wants so badly to let them in closer, but he can't, he just can't.

“Sir, there is something for you, outside of the lab.” JARVIS breaks in through his thoughts.  Tony blinks, raking a hand through is hair and sighing.

“Is it important?” He asks.  JARVIS seems to pause, clearing his throat delicately before continuing on.

“I believe so sir.” Well alright then.

Tony goes to wash his hands, straightens out what's left of his tux; just the pants and the shirt now-sleeves rolled up his forearms and buttons undone to show just the top of the vest covering the arc. He does up those buttons to hide it from view, smoothing the shirt down and stepping out of the lab doors once he's certain no one else is in the hallway. When he makes it out he stops and stares. A flower arrangement sits oh so innocently just to the left. It's in a bright red vase. A small card leans against the bottom with Tony's name scrawled across it in elegant calligraphy. Tony sinks down, taking the little card and gingerly shaking it from the envelope into his hand. It's from Steve-of course it is. Inside Cap's flowing script says a lot of things, praise, all of it. What is at the end catches his eye the most however, one simple question.

**Will you still let me take you out sometime?**

Jan finds him there, curled against the wall with the flowers in his lap, hugging them close and staring out at nothing. “They're from Steve right?” Jan says brightly, but her approach is cautious. Tony doesn't blame her, he probably looks like a mess right now. Jan is an old friend though, she's seen much worse from him.

"Yeah.” His voice sounds harsh even to his own ears, but Jan just looks happy for him. “Yeah they're from Steve.” Then he's laughing, burying his face in the blooms; Forget Me Nots, pink Camellias, Chamomile and Iris. God, he's so fucked he can't even bring himself to be upset about it.

 

* * *

 

Later he drags himself up off the floor to shower, shave and generally gets himself in order. He's not ready to see people yet though, not fit for civil company, so he goes back down to the lab to think. A holo-screen pops up after about an hour of pacing that culminates in him throwing himself across his favorite couch in the lab while trying in vain to talk some sense into his stupid hopeful heart. JARVIS doesn't say anything, just highlighting Rhodey's number on his contact list. He stares at it for long moments. It's around one in the morning where Rhodey is, but they've both called each other before at later times than this. They're brothers after all, Tony's allowed to be annoying and scream about his relationship woes-he's earned it after listening to Rhodey moon over various people during his long post Afghanistan stint with celibacy. Still he hesitates, hopefully he won't be _too_ mad at having his beauty sleep disrupted.

“Jay, call Grumpy Bear.”

“Very good sir.” JARVIS says without missing a beat. The phone rings twice before Rhodey's face comes into view. He's laying in a hotel bed, face smashed into the pillow, but he jerks into a sitting position when he sees the look on Tony's face.

“Tones, what's wrong, when's the last time you got some sleep?” He starts in without even pausing for breath. Tony feels something tight unclench in his chest. He knows it's alright to call Rhodey when he really needs it, but some part of him always expects to be slapped down even after all these years.

“Steve asked me on a date, and he said he wants to court me-hell he's _been_ doing the whole courting thing.” He blurts out, and Rhodey nods as if that makes sense, swinging his legs to get out of bed and walking over to the couch in his hotel room. Wow. Tony kind of expected a solid telling off for waking Rhodey to talk about his feelings for Steve. Rhodey just kind of looks like he was expecting it; sprawling across his couch and settling his phone on a stand on the coffee table to stare at Tony. He turns his wrist, clearly waiting for Tony to continue.

“At least I think he is, he said he was but what-I don't know, anyway. God, fuck. What the _hell_ is going on?” There's an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice so he dials it back, slumping on the couch like a puppet with the strings cut.

“Okay,” Rhodey says, drawing out the word slowly. “that's not surprising at all, what's your crisis here? Because all I'm seeing is the natural progression of y'all making goo goo eyes at each other all the time.” Tony resists the urge to yell mean things at Rhodey, he does _not_ make those kinds of faces at Steve, not matter what Jan says when she thinks he's not paying attention.

“I don't know that dating Captain America is a good idea. That's...that's a lot of pressure. It's going to be all over the papers, what a shitshow. It's a bad _bad_ idea.” But it would be so _nice,_ and Steve seems to want it so much. He didn't run when Tony had his little melodrama with Hammer at the gala, he didn't run when JARVIS made it apparent that picking him up wrong would net a fist to the jaw. Steve seems completely unphased by how much of a mess Tony is. There's precisely two people in the world that Tony tells most of the deepest darkest things his mind comes up with-he feels like maybe he could tell Steve even more. That Steve wouldn't judge him or offer empty platitudes. Steve looks at him like no one ever has-like Tony is his whole world, as if Tony is somehow _worthy_ of perfect devotion and love. It's a beautiful sentiment, but Tony just doesn't know how the hell to handle that. Tony shakes himself out of the fantasy. Focus, Tony, _Focus_.

“Disregarding how wrong you are, and how much I do not care about the press and what they have to say about you-when you look at him what do _you_ want?”

“To spread my legs?” Tony says with a shrug. He's being honest here, and Rhodey's heard worse things from him before.

“Tones, we have _talked_ about this before, this is not just a sex thing.” Rhodey goes quiet for a moment, and Tony vibrates with tension in the interim.

“It's not just a sex thing is it? Do not. Do not make that face, I can see you. Stop pouting.” Rhodey sounds fondly exasperated despite himself. Tony has enough experience with Rhodey-speak to know when to press his advantage. Tony whines, hanging his head and putting his best Pity Me expression on.

“No. No that doesn't work on me anymore. Tell the truth. And if you tell me that the truth only involves you banging Captain America like a screen door in a hurricane I will fly over there just to tell you in person that you're a liar.” So serious, that's Rhodey's command voice. Tony feels mildly accomplished at having been enough of a wreck to bring that out of storage.

“Wow that's dedication.” Tony mutters, pointedly ignoring the glare being tossed in his direction.

“Tony.”

“Rhodey, Rhodey Bear, Gumdrop, my little Gummy Bear-” Tony's singsonging is cut off by Rhodey standing up and walking out of frame before reappearing a short moment later with a six pack of beer. He plops back on the couch, popping the cap from a bottle and taking a long swig; raising his eyebrows, and gesturing at Tony in a way that says it's Tony's fault. Tony sighs.

"The truth please.” Rhodey deserves that at least, Tony has lied to him enough over the years.  Tony drops his eyes, winding his fingers together and unwinding them nervously. It's an anxious tell he's never quite gotten rid of, a reason almost everything he wears has pockets. Rhodey knows but he kindly let's Tony work through his crisis without further input. He thinks of Steve, holding him close in front of the fireplace, of gentle touches, the precise shades of blue that make up Steve's eyes, the gold flecks in his sandy hair. He thinks of how others would have jumped on his many offers for sex without a second thought, but Steve seems to want something more from him. He thinks of Steve's words in the limo, of his loneliness and isolation, and how despite that all somehow it's _Tony_ that makes it all worthwhile-of the fact that Tony has a secret to maintain but he can't imagine pushing Steve away, even if that makes it all the more difficult.

“No, it's not just a sex thing.” Tony admits when the silence drags, chewing on the inside of his cheek to keep from just absolutely losing it.  “How did this happen?” He whispers, and Rhodey-the bastard-snorts.

“Gee I don't know Tones, maybe it's because you've had a fucking crush on the guy since you were in training wheels-and maybe because he's so gone on you that I'm surprised he hasn't come down to serenade you yet.” He never should have shown Rhodey that picture of him in a Cap costume all those years ago.

Tony groans in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face and snagging one of his motion sculptures off of a nearby desk for something to do with his shaking hands. They're cold again, nailbeds turning slightly purple with chill. Tony puts the sculpture back down to shake his hands out, rubbing them over his pant legs to encourage circulation. Rhodey stays quiet, sipping his beer and eyeing him patiently.

“No it's...it's not-it's definitely not just sex.” Tony concedes again. “Steve he's different than I thought he was going to be. Not in a _bad_ way I mean. He just-” Tony can't meet Rhodey's eyes in the video call.  “It's really _really_ not just a crush.” The words come out almost too fast, but judging by the way Rhodey starts coughing he definitely heard what Tony said. It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does he fixes Tony with a look that's so knowing it's almost painful.

“Tony. If that's how you feel why are you fighting this?” Tony shuts his eyes, digging his teeth into his bottom lip before steeling himself enough to speak.

“Cap-Steve, he's such a good guy. He's...he's amazing, and me I'm-I'm” Tony falters, scrubbing a shaking hand over his face again before shoving both hands in his pockets and hunching over on the couch.

“You're _what_?” Rhodey's glaring again, Tony contemplates just hanging up. Rhodey has been with him through thick and thin. He's seen Tony at his worst, at his lowest-and Tony has seen _Rhodey_ at his worst, but that doesn't make it any easier. Some ugly part of him that sounds a lot like his dad keeps telling him he needs to suck it up, be a man-Stark men are made of iron. _Well fuck you dad, maybe some days I feel more like jell-o than metal._ He _hates_ emotions, maybe he can create a robot to feel all his feelings for him. That can only end in tears. Scratch that.

“He deserves someone better than me okay, is that what you wanted to hear?” He intends for the words to be sharp, but instead they just sound as hollowed out as Tony feels by the admission.

“He deserves someone who won't make people contemplate his sanity when he steps out with them. And then there's the whole lite brite in the chest slash secret identity thing.” Tony curls in further on himself, unable to look up to see what kind of face Rhodey is making in response to him spilling his feelings like a kid at a slumber party.

“Tony.” Rhodey's voice is soft and coaxing but he's not looking up.  “Tones, I love you like a brother, but you are _so_ full of shit.” Tony grunts in aggravation, eyes snapping up despite himself.

“What, hey, that's not nice.” He huffs, grabbing his abandoned glass of scotch, the ice clinks with the slight tremor in his grip. He doesn't drink it, just holds it, the comforting weight of it in his hand is enough for now. It's probably a pretty bad idea to get drunk right now anyway. Inebriated and maudlin are a decidedly bad combination. Tony knows that all too well. Tony has always felt like there's some terrible chasm at the center of him. A bitter sort of loneliness he can't even begin to address for fear of trusting someone with his heart. He's tried all kinds of things to fill that void, but alcohol and casual sex don't make up for much, who knew? It's been better with Steve around though. Steve who treats him like he hung the moon in the sky.

“You are good enough. No, no, no arguing, Rhodey time now.” Tony sputters as Rhodey-the great big dork-points to himself imperiously.

“You listen to me Anthony Edward Stark. I _know_ you, and I know you're a good man, a great man. One of these days you're gonna get your head out of your ass and tell the Avengers the truth, and they're all going to welcome your dumb ass in like you've always been there-because you _have._ I see you about to open your mouth to talk, zip it.” Tony snaps his mouth shut with a click.

“They're _superheroes,_ they get the whole secret identity thing. And Steve would be lucky to have you, okay. I mean what the hell man, it's so obvious he wants the whole white picket fence things with you that I'm going to start picking out wedding colors for the two of you.” Tony blinks intensely, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly to hide the way his eyes may have gone just a little bit wet with Rhodey's whole I love you speech. Fucking _feelings_. Tony feels nauseous. He takes a sip of his drink instead of hurling himself on the floor and throwing the very mature tantrum he really wants to have.

“I look pretty in red just so you know, I refuse to wear a white tux. It's gotta be...gotta be red.” He croaks out with none of his usual savoir faire.

“Yeah, I think you'd get struck by lightening if you tried to wear white.” Rhodey deadpans like the asshole he is.

“Excuse you, are you-are you _slut shaming_ me Rhodes?” Tony says with as much mock affront as he can muster, Rhodey starts laughing.

“Yeah man, you're a regular hussy.” Both of them are laughing now, and it feels so good to be talking to his brother in everything but blood that Tony almost forgets his earlier anxieties.

“I may be a hussy, but I have an ass you could bounce a quarter off of, that has to count for something right?” Tony still remember that time they were both more than a little intoxicated and Rhodey accused him of wearing a booty pop.  Maybe it had been overkill to moon him for proof that this is all his, but Tony has no regrets.  Rhodey snorts, but then gets a sort of considering look on his face.

“Yeah, it does, and you do. What? I notice things, okay man.” Tony gasps, holding a hand to his chest in shock.

“Are you admitting that I have a superior posterior.” Tony waggles his eyebrows, proud of his word choice when Rhodey sputters into the sip of beer he just took and squints at Tony while he wipes his face.

“Wear the Tom Ford suit, the black one you had on that day with the breakfast and you panicking. Rogers will swallow his tongue, that's all I'm saying, no. We are not talking about your ass anymore, just do it and thank me later.” There's silence in the workshop for a good while after that. In the distance Dummy drops something, but Tony for once does not react.

“Do you really think this is a good idea, this thing with Steve?” He asks quietly, and Rhodey sits back in his chair fixing him with a steady stare.

“Yeah Tones I think it is. Stop overthinking, I know you're fundamentally incapable of that, but please, just trust me on this one. Now, I've gotta go, there's this thing called sleep which most of us humans need, don't suppose there's anything you'd know about that is there?” Tony gives him a glare of his own.

“I'm not tired.” He grouches, slurping his drink at Rhodey in what he hopes is a threatening manner but is probably just obnoxious instead. Tony doesn't care, he's the younger brother. Obnoxious is his middle name.

“Yeah well I am, and I'm going to sleep. And Tony-”

“Yes, Rhodey my Sweet.”

“Go the fuck to sleep.” Rhodey deadpans.Tony's uncontrollable giggles ring out through the workshop as the call cuts off.

He doesn't go to sleep, he _can't._ There's too much banging around in his head. Ideas and inspiration warring with his mortal terror of this uncharted territory with Steve. In the end he knocks out bent over his worktable, head pillowed on his arms, a coffee mug resting by his left elbow. He dreams of blue eyes and a warm hand resting on his cheek.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower meanings
> 
> Anemone-Anticipation  
> Pink rose-happiness, please believe me, passion.
> 
> Forget me not- growing affection, connection, fidelity, loyalty.  
> Pink camellia- longing  
> Chamomile-patience  
> Iris-Your Friendship Means so Much to Me, Faith, Hope


	9. Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware the Fluff! As always your comments are my life-blood. Many thanks to everyone on the Discord who patiently let me bemoan the fate of intending to write a oneshot and ending up with this instead. You're all amazing.

Tony comes out of his trauma fueled dissociative engineering fugue a few days later. He's cocooned in a soft blanket, curled on his side on a cot in the lab. The bruising around the reactor is a distant faded ache, but his clavicles still pop uncomfortably when he rolls over onto his back to pat around the blankets for his phone. His phone is open when he grabs it, the messages displayed indicating he's spent the last while excitedly rambling about a thousand different ideas to a combination of Rhodey, Pepper, and surprisingly Thor. Although the last seems to have commandeered Clint's phone in order to have the conversation. For some reason Thor seems to believe having a cellphone is some sort of affront to his Asgardian sensibilities-something something _send a raven Anthony_. Whatever that means, he doesn't seem to take issue with his Avengers communicator at least.

There's several messages from Steve too; questions about tech Tony strongly suspects are just an excuse to send a message, reminders that Steve really wants to see him soon, and then a blurry picture of Steve looking hangdog with the caption ' _Whos going to show this old soldier around if not the man of the future?'_ Tony stares at it for anywhere between a minute and an hour before the desire for food and coffee has him texting Steve back on impulse.

 _I'm tired, need coffee, come get me please Captain Handsome?_ Tony adds a few crying emojis to the end of the message just for effect. Technically he has both coffee and food down in the lab, but maybe he really just wants to see Steve-if he's being honest with himself.

Not even five minutes later Steve answers back not with a text-but by striding into the lab looking like a man on a mission. Tony sits up on the cot to greet him, realizing belatedly that he's only in his short half shirt and a pair of leggings. Steve definitely notices too, but the look on his face is anything but displeased by what he sees. Tony freezes, the desire to cover himself with the blanket warring with the urge to say 'Are you sure this is what you want'. Tony settles on grabbing a discarded band t-shirt off the bed and tugging it over his head instead. Steve averts his eyes, cheeks pinking. Huh. So, scars and crop tops are definitely not a turn off then.

Steve clears his throat. “Need some help getting to your caffeinating station?”

“Mhmm, yes.” Tony answers immediately, then holds his arms out, twisting his face in the expression of deep woe that Rhodey has known him long enough to be immune to-but Steve still has yet to learn. “Carry me Steve.” He looks up at Steve through his lashes, and is rewarded by that large solid body coming right up into his space.

“Yeah, you need Taxi service mister Stark?” Cheeky. Tony smiles, sighing when Steve runs his fingers through his hair and bends to kiss his forehead.

“Maybe I do, maybe I just want you to cart me around.” Tony murmurs, pressing his face against Steve's stomach, inhaling the fresh scent of laundry detergent and old fashioned cologne.

“C'mere then, let's get your rocket fuel.” Steve says, leaning down to pull Tony into his arms, hoisting him up with one roll of ridiculously powerful shoulders. This is the first time he's been fully conscious to appreciate what it feels like to be carried by a supersoldier. Tony sighs, leaning against Steve and resting his head on one of those magnificent shoulders while Steve totes him up to the main kitchen.

“I missed you, glad you asked me to come and get you.” Steve sounds as sincere as he always does when he's making Tony question the reality of what's currently happening. Tony blinks slowly, sitting up in Steve's arms to get a good look at his face, and Steve meets him head on, not hesitant at all.

“We don't have to talk about what happened at the gala-” Steve starts.  Tony opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again when Steve's Determined face makes an appearance. “-but I want you to know that if you need me to go knock that Hammer asshole around-you just say the word.” Coming from someone else it might be kind of funny. Coming from Steve it's dead serious. Never in a million years would Captain America offering to kick the ass of someone who wronged him seem anything but fully surreal.

“Steve, Cap, please don't go all Brooklyn bruiser on Justin Hammer. The guy's built like balsa wood, you would snap him like a twig.” It's not that Tony has any qualms about punching hammer himself, but Steve would probably feel bad if he seriously hurt the moron.  Steve huffs, urging Tony to settle against him once more.

“Fine, but I woulda done it.” Steve says mulishly.

“Yeah, I know you would, but don't. SHIELD has him now and they're keeping him for a long while.” It's a pleasant thought, if anything it will make parties easier to deal with, knowing Justin Hammer won't be able to make an appearance.  Steve sets him down once they reach the kitchen, hugging him close for a moment before releasing him into the wilds of the kitchen. Tony wanders over to the coffee maker to fix himself a mug of his favorite elixir of life. It's quiet in the room; the only sounds the metallic clink of his spoon on the ceramic cup, and the ping of Tony's emails going off in the pocket of his leggings.

“He hurt you though.” Steve says from behind him, and Tony turns, looking up into blue eyes gone stormy with anger.

“I'm _fine_ Steve, just fine. Just a momentary lapse, I'm good now.” He's not-not entirely, but it's enough for now. Enough, with Steve crowding him up against the counter and holding him close, stroking his hair. Enough when the other Avengers trickle into the kitchen, and Carol shows him today's news headline detailing the massive info leak of all of Hammer's shady business dealings. JARVIS has apparently been _very_ busy.

He leaves to pull himself together for the unspeakably long list of obligations he has lined up today. Things he's been putting off while he found his center again-a center point he feels shifting more and more towards a certain supersoldier. Tony won't let himself think about that right now though, that way lies madness. Madness and probably more panic attacks. It's cold outside today, Tony can feel it in the vague ache in his chest, in the chill in his fingertips. He wants to go curl up with Steve again, but there is too much work to do.

When he walks into S.I. Pepper is waiting for him. She smiles, bumping her shoulder against his while they walk to R & D.

“Good to see you back Mister Stark.” She says, laughing when he scrunches his face up.

“You welcome me back with meetings? Cruelty, thy name is Pepper.” The hand to his chest adds to the high drama, but it's worth it to hear Pepper hold back a giggle. She shifts to pure business once they reach the lab doors to research and development, and Tony once again is reminded of the perfect choice he made in appointing her CEO.

“Show time?” He asks.

“Razzle dazzle Mister Stark.” Pepper answers, to the whoosh of JARVIS opening the glass doors. Yeah, Tony can do this.

 

* * *

 

There's the muffled sound of a movie playing in the sitting room closest to Tony's when he gets back from a day that just seems like endless meetings and glad handing. Tony's exhausted. He knows the smart thing to do would be to bypass everyone and pass out in his giant luxurious bed, but then Steve's laughter carries over to where he's leaning against the wall, and all thoughts of doing the smart thing go out the window.

He perks up like a dog hearing a squeaky toy, pushing off from his makeshift crutch and smoothing the wrinkles of his suit-the jacket's long gone, but the rest has survived the day. It's still perfectly pressed of course, save for the slight creasing at the waistcoat where it's obvious he's been hunched over.

His eyes feel fuzzy and strained from staring at fine print, so he drags lenses out and unfolds them across his nose, smiling when they scan over his irises. Within a second everything is nice and crisp again. Tony shoves his hands in his pockets, affects an air of casual interest, and strides into the sitting room like he's not about to keel over from lack of sleep.

''Tony! You're back.” Steve says before he even has a chance to open his mouth and ask what they're watching. He blinks as Steve stands to make his way over, rate of blinking increasing as Steve gives him a once over. Tony clears his throat, and Steve gets a sort of abashed look on his face, but that doesn't stop him from coming right up into his personal space.

“Hi.” Tony says dumbly when Steve tugs his hands out of his pockets by the wrists.

“Hi yourself, come sit with us.” It's said with such warmth, such affection that Tony feels the absolutely horrifying desire to _snuggle_. This just keeps happening with Steve. He's never felt so needy with a lover before, if that's even what they are. Tony doesn't know what kind of label to give their relationship, but he does know that he wants Steve all over him, and not even in a purely sexual way. What. The. Fuck. Steve apparently trips every single touch starved thought Tony has ever had in his life. He might be more upset about it Steve didn't treat cuddling Tony like his own personal mission in life.

“C'mon, movie's about to start. Previews just ended!” Jan chirps from her spot perched on the arm of the larger of the two couches in the room.

“Yeah Stark, stop making eyes at each other and get your fine ass into a couch. Oh god, did I just say that out loud? I've been listening to Cap talk about your a-” Carol cuts him off by winding an arm around his head and dragging him into a very intense headlock. Tony would feel bad for him, but Clint's made his painful nest, now he has to lay in it.

“Thank you Chirpy Number One, it's nice to know my assets are appreciated for the work of art they are.” Tony demurs, resolutely not meeting Steve's eyes. Clint shoots him a thumbs up and then resumes flailing in Carol's iron grip. _Good luck birdbrain, and godspeed._

Steve clears his throat, using gentle tugging motions to bring him over to the couch. Steve is always so careful with him. His touches seem to come with such an awareness of his own strength. It's kind of endearing, and it kind of also makes Tony wonder what it would take to make him be a little rougher.

He stows those thoughts though, not exactly appropriate things to be thinking about when you're having family home evening surrounded by friends. Not exactly appropriate thoughts to have when you haven't even _kissed_ yet. _Get control of your dick Stark._ He lectures himself sternly. Weird, his self lecturer voice sounds a lot like Rhodey. Still he supposes a few lascivious thoughts aren't _completely_ beyond the pale. He and Steve are really doing this thing, it's normal to want, Tony's just not used to any of his more romantic leanings being fulfilled.

“So what are we watching?” He asks, eyes widening slightly when Steve plops himself on the couch and then winds him in close when Tony sits too. Steve lets go of his hands, but throws an arm across his shoulders to pull him close. It's almost as if Steve is afraid that Tony will run off if he stops touching him.

“We're watching Jurassic Park, Steve saw a still from it on some website and he wanted to watch it.” Natasha says from the doorway of the room. She's carrying a tray loaded up with bowls of popcorn. Behind her, Thor has a truly impressive amount of candy in his arms.

“We were informed by the fair Wasp that the story is one of fancy, but it sounds a tale of true wonder.” Sometimes Tony wonders if Thor is really...happening. The guy is just unreal-in a good way.

“Ah, Anthony, we are most pleased to see you, the mansion has been quite dull without your presence.” Thor lumbers his way over to drop some of Tony's favorite candy in his lap with a huge toothy grin. Tony loves Thor, Thor is great.

“Thanks Sparky. Has anyone told you you're looking particularly muscly today?” Thor's grin gets wider, and he flexes, biceps bulging impossibly with the motion as Tony tears into his candy with great enthusiasm.

“Hey, no flirting with my fella.” Steve says with mock seriousness. Tony chokes. Holy _shit-_ Steve is really serious about this-not just going on a date with Tony, but telling the Avengers, making no secret of what the two of them are getting up to. It makes something that feels an awful lot like happiness flutter somewhere in a forgotten part of his heart-that Steve who could never have this before is so willing to put this out in the open, that he's chosen _Tony_ of all people when he could have anyone.

“Tis no fair competition, I know when I am bested good Captain, there is no threat here.” Thor says with a good natured smile over at Steve.  Tony can't fucking _believe_ what is going on right now. It's kind of flattering to think Thor might have had a little crush though. What an ego boost. Thor seems to know what he's thinking, he shoots Tony a little wink before going off to make himself comfortable next to Jan.

The movie has been rolling for a few minutes when Steve shifts next to him, tugging him inexorably closer with one strong arm.

“Hey-” Their eyes meet in the low light of the room, and Tony blinks as if he's coming out of a daze.  “Is this okay?” Steve asks, trailing his palm over Tony's arm before encouraging Tony to throw his legs over his lap.

“Uh.” So intent, Steve is looking at him so intently. Tony licks his lips, brain working both at the speed of light, and with the slowness of molasses.

“I uh...I need back support?” Tony's fucking tired language centers are fired. Or maybe not. Steve smiles like Tony's given him a puppy or something, then pulls him close, effectively seating Tony on his lap. He wraps Tony up in his ridiculous arms and tucks Tony's head under his chin. His brain computes something that's probably just a series of exclamation points. Wow. Steve's lap is-really solid.

“Tony? Is this...I can sit further away if-” Steve whispers, sounding so nervous that Tony just wants to kiss him all over his stupidly beautiful face.

“No Steve, this is good. It's-really really good.” It's better than good, so, **so** much better than good, being held close to Steve like this.  Steve sags with relief against the couch though as if somehow he had doubts over how receptive Tony would be to all this. Maybe Tony should kick up more of a fuss about being snuggled up to, no one has _ever_ done things like this to him. Just held him with no expectation-and Steve just does this all the time. From the night in the music room, to his frequent hugs, snuggling him in the kitchen, and that terrible night in the limo when they clung to each other like the last pieces of floating debris in a shipwreck. Tony has treated _a lot_ of people like something precious, but to have that care so clearly returned is not something he's familiar with.

 _Oh Tony, so desperate to be loved you'd sell yourself to the lowest bidder._ Tony pushes away that voice, he doesn't need Sunset Bain's cruelty in his head right now. Steve is not like that, he doesn't think it's even possible for Steve to project that level of artifice. Steve is a lot of things, but he's not a liar. He feels like if that unspoken thing between Pepper and himself had survived past his superheroing and palladium poisoning it might have been something like this. Steve is the first person to hold him like this since Afghanistan. He remembers Steve's words, his despair and loneliness, the way he spoke of missing touch. Tony understands more than Steve will ever know, more than he will ever be able to put into words.

It hits him with sudden dizzying clarity just how much he _wants_ and he's _starving_ , burrowing close and letting Steve wrap him up tight, balling his fists in the soft warm fabric covering Steve's chest. He bends his knees, curling up to get as much contact between the two of them as possible, and Steve bless him, Steve just holds him without comment. Tired, he's so tired, and Steve is right there, not going anywhere. He fades in and out of sleep after that, cradled close to warmth and safe as he hasn't felt in years.

“He's got to be so tired.” He wakes for a moment to the sound of hushed whispers. The movie is playing in the background but this sounds closer.

“Let me get his shoes off, his poor toes.” That's Jan, Tony grunts but doesn't impede her when he feels small hands wrap around one of his ankles. She's careful with the expensive leather oxfords when she takes them off, setting them aside. His glasses relay her moving around behind him grabbing a blanket, and then she's back, draping it across the pair of them with a tiny fond smile.

“He's been working too hard, I can tell.” Steve says against the top of his head, and Tony's too sleepy to really grouse about that right now.

“Yeah. Steve, I worry you know. I know he's got stuff under control but I wish he'd let us help sometimes too. He's been so busy we haven't even gotten to do our weekend nail painting” Jan sounds put out.  Tony feels more than a little guilty about that. Weekend nail-painting goes _way_ back with Jan.

“I'm trying, he's stubborn, but I guess it takes one to know one.” Steve says, and Tony knows he must be smiling.  Jan giggles, and Tony shuts his eyes against the wave of emotion that slams into him unbidden. These people _care_ about him. Rhodey's never going to stop saying I told you so. Tony may as well write it on his headstone, because it's never going to end for as long as he lives.

“You're up aren't you.” Steve says quietly after Jan has gone to sit down again.

“No.” Tony says somewhat petulantly at being caught dropping eaves. Technically it's not, after all it's not as if they don't know he's there. He _is_ sitting on top of Steve.

“Mhmm, yes, very convincing.” It should be illegal for Captain America to sound so knowing when Tony's trying to lie, really.  Tony manages to unstick his face from where it's been pressed against his personal space heater and gives Steve what he hopes is a very mean face. Steve smiles though, so he guesses it's not frightening. _Tony used Intimidate, It was not very effective._ He thinks with an air of inevitability.

“I'll have you know I can be very convincing. I am the King of Convincing, the Imperator of Impressive.” Steve just raises his eyebrows. Rude.

“That so?” Steve doesn't sound convinced at all, what a blow to the ego.  Tony shifts on Steve's lap, about to launch into one hell of a speech when Steve reaches up and rubs the back of his neck just where the ends of his-getting-too-long hair begin to curl. Not fair. Tony goes boneless, dropping his head against Steve's shoulder and shutting his eyes. Strong thumbs press against the tendons in his neck, and Tony resists moaning by sheer willpower alone.

“Oh god.” Tony slurs when Steve gets a hand under his waistcoat to start kneading his shoulders through his undershirt, pressing his thumb into the line of his spine and dragging it down. Under most circumstances Tony would be about ready to strip naked and shove his ass in Steve's face, but he's just so _tired,_ and it feels so _good. Yeah Rhodey, it's not just a sex thing._ _Fuck._

Steve's hand turns, knuckles replacing the drag of his thumb to dig against his back with slightly more pressure. Tony groans as his back pops from his C 7 to his L 1 vertebrae. It feels _awesome._ When his eyes flick upwards, Steve is looking a little pink in the face.

“Does that feel good, is this-I can stop-I'm not hurting you am I?” Steve really needs to work on understanding when Tony's on the verge of taking his clothes off.  Tony wonders if it would be bad form to rip his shirt off and hang a _**Take me I'm Yours**_ sign around his neck. Probably.

Tony's about to spit a sonnet about the fantastic-ness of Steve's hands when Clint pipes up from his spot on the other couch. He's perched on the back of it with a bowl of popcorn, staring over at the two of them like they're better entertainment than the movie on the screen.

“Cap if you don't do him soon _I'm_ going to die of sexual frustration. Take pity, have a heart.” Steve's even more red now. Tony finds himself agreeing with Tweety. Carol however just grabs Clint again, and then the two of them are grappling on the floor to the sound of Thor cheering and taking bets. _This is my life now._ He thinks, and even in his head It sounds more fond than horrified.

“It does.” Tony blurts out, finally registering Steve's earlier question while his brain was busy rebooting itself.

“Wh-” Steve starts, but Tony bulls onward.

“It does feel good, you weren't hurting me.” Tony snaps his mouth shut before he can do something as undignified as begging. To his relief Steve doesn't ask any further questions, just resumes rubbing at his back with slow even motions. Tony sags against him, all but purring as Steve strokes the fingers of his other hand over his jaw.

He loses time after that, blinking in and out of wakefulness, catching snippets of the team ribbing each other and heckling the movie. Steve doesn't stop touching him the entire time, Tony's not sure he's ever felt quite this relaxed in his life. Even the Arc sitting heavy in his chest doesn't feel as uncomfortably oppressive as it usually does.

“Tony.” It's gone quiet, but Clint's alive, or at least Tony thinks he is. Tony blinks, the room is empty save for the two of them. He must have fallen asleep again-the vague impression of dreams remain, but Tony lets them slip away. The glasses are slightly askew on his face, making everything tilt slightly, with a tap to one of the hinges they fold up as they're removed so he can carefully toss them over onto the coffee table.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to fall asleep on you like that.” Steve shakes his head, scooting around to lay on his back without dislodging Tony. It's a pretty impressive move all in all.

“Just didn't want to jostle you.” Steve tugs him back down, stretching them both out on the couch lengthwise, and reaching up to slide his thumbs over Tony's cheekbones, right under his eyes.

“Tony.” Steve says again, looking up at him in the dim half light of the room. It's so similar to the infamous day of Cockblock Radio that Tony half expects their communicators to start going off.

“Yeah Steve, what can I do for you?'' Tony licks his lips, watching in fascination as blue eyes drop to track the motion. Oh... _oh._ Broad palms sweep around to comb through his hair, then down the back of his neck.

“Can I kiss you?” The question takes him off guard even though he was kind of expecting it.  Tony bites his lip to keep himself from moaning like Steve just got a hand down his pants instead of just asking him an innocent question.

“God yes, _please_.” It should be ridiculous, Steve asking him permission for everything, but it's not. Everyone always assumes that Tony Stark is always ready and willing for anything. Tony doesn't quite know what to do with all this care and affection, but clinging to it with both hands seems to be the best course of action.

“C'mere then sweetheart.” Steve murmurs, gliding his hand over Tony's jaw then down to curl around the loosened knot of his tie. Light and shadow slants across their faces as he's tugged down.

“Sweetheart?” Tony repeats dumbly, Steve's answering smile is small and intimate in the shifting light of the television.

“Yeah, that's right cause I'm sweet on you.” Steve says, completely unabashed. Tony just can't with this man, who _says_ shit like that? He starts laughing, dropping his head down onto Steve's broad warm chest. Beneath him Steve is laughing too, but they both go quiet when Steve sweeps the hand not currently wrapped around his tie down Tony's back. He's not sure which of them sucked in a sharp breath, but the mood changes between them. The levity is still present, but there's an awareness there; in the way Steve's eyes are fixed on his lips, in the press of strong fingers just against the small of his back.

“You are-you are ridiculous.” Tony murmurs, and Steve just hums tugging on his tie again, pulling slightly this time with more force. _Goddamn_ Tony wants those hands all _over_ his body.

“Tony.” Steve breathes, and Tony raises his head, bracing his hands on Steve's chest to lean up over him, teasing him first by kissing the corners of his mouth, his chin, before allowing the demanding grip on his tie to pull him in fully, pressing their lips together at last. Steve's lips are soft and warm, parting easily for his tongue when he sweeps it over the perfect cupid's bow like he's been wanting to. Slow syrupy pleasure buzzes through his veins, lighting all along his nerves in every spot their bodies touch.

One of Steve's big hands comes up to cradle the back of his head, and then Tony's world shifts as Steve flips them so that Tony's pressed against the back of the couch. Their legs tangle together, Tony throwing an arm around Steve's neck to try and get as close as possible. It's similar to that night sleeping in front of the fireplace, the closeness, the warmth-it burns hotter though, makes the swoop of arousal vibrant and real until Tony is panting into the kiss. Steve is half leaning over him, covering Tony's body with his, kissing him as if it's the only thing that matters. Their mouths part for a moment, Steve leaning their foreheads together and breathing into the space between them.

Under other circumstances, with another person Tony would be feeling boxed in right now. Steve is different though, and all he can feel in this moment is safe, like Steve would do anything to keep him close. It's as sweet as it is blisteringly arousing, and Tony just has to take a moment to get his systems back online.

Or he would have, if Steve didn't let go of his tie to drag his thumb over Tony's bottom lip. There's a lot of things Tony likes, but he's not going to lie, his oral fixation is something his past lovers' -even the ones who don't like him much-would write long rave reviews about. His tongue darts out, tracing Steve's nail before he sucks the digit into his mouth, watching Steve's eyes drop to his lips and those baby blue's dilate like Tony's got something _else_ in there.

“God, Tony-” Steve groans, drawing his hand away and curling his fingers in Tony's hair.

“Yeah, tell me about it, What do you want Steve?” Tony lets his voice drop low and is rewarded by Steve pressing impossibly closer, their hips lining up _just_ right, and wow. Wow. Tony would like to write a letter of thanks to the committee responsible for passing out anatomy.

“Just this, just wanna kiss you sweetheart, we got time.” Tony opens his mouth to say something probably crass, but then Steve's leaning in, mouthing over his jaw, _nuzzling_ his beard before pulling him into a kiss that's sweet and dirty and utterly ruinous in how it puts every other kiss Tony has ever had to shame. Who allowed Captain America to kiss like _that?_

Tony had expected shy and fumbling, not whatever this is, but he's not complaining at all. It's obvious Steve hasn't kissed a lot of people, but what he lacks in experience he's making up for by being so damn enthusiastic Tony's pretty sure he's going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager.

That thought gets even more traction when Steve buries one hand in Tony's hair and _pulls._ Tony sets his teeth on Steve's bottom lip to suck biting kisses there, moaning shamelessly and clinging to Steve's broad shoulders when Steve pulls his hair again, dragging his head back to mouth down his neck.

“Can I take off your tie?” Steve asks against the collar of his shirt, and Tony reaches down to practically rip his tie off in his haste. The offending article of clothing gets tossed somewhere, Jan can fret about wrinkled silk later, Tony's not really thinking about that right now.

Steve takes that for the permission it is, nudging his nose against Tony's adam's apple and setting about driving Tony wild by dragging his teeth over the long lines of his throat. Tony feels like he's going crazy and they're both still fully clothed.

“Dirty, Captain, who knew.” The little hitch of Steve's hips against his does not go without notice. Tony purrs, undulating against Steve in a way that's gotten him soundly fucked many a time, but Steve just lets a little huff of breath out against the place he's been focusedly sucking a hickey, leaning back to fix him with a searching stare. His lips are kiss reddened and shiny. The kick of arousal in Tony's gut hits him so strong and powerful it takes all of his mental faculties not to whimper.

“Come on another date with me.” He says, completely derailing Tony's frankly obscene train of thought.

“Uh. When was our first one?” Tony asks, feeling a little slow on the uptake despite all evidence of being a genius.  Steve's eyes are twinkling at him in amusement. Wow, yeah Tony feels like he's definitely missing a puzzle piece here.

“We watched a movie together, I got to cuddle you, which was really great. I want to do that some more soon if you'll let me. I thought it was a pretty nice date, but I'd like to take my fella out somewhere too.” One of these days Steve is really going to cause him to short circuit out of sheer confusion.  Tony stares at him utterly gobsmacked. His brain just doesn't ever seem to want to work right around Steve. This is not happening.

“Steve.” He says slowly.  “Are you-are you really planning on _courting_ me?” The incredulity in his voice only seems to amuse Steve more.

“I thought the flowers made it pretty clear that's what I was up to, and I meant what I said in the limo. Every single word of it.” Behind them the muted television is throwing colorful lights across the walls, but Tony can't tear his eyes away from Steve.

“You're really doing this?” He says wonderingly. 

“You know, you don't have to go through all this trouble.” Tony lets his lashes dip, watches Steve's gaze sharpen a little. “Don't have to butter me up Cap, you can have me, anytime, anywhere.”

“That's not what this is about. One day when you're comfortable we can..I would-I want that with you too, but I wanna be romantic with my fella, didn't ever really get to do that Before.” Steve cups his cheek, dropping a kiss that's disproportionately chaste compared to what they had been up to before. Tony's eyes flutter shut all the same. It's so easy to let Steve be gentle with him. The kisses are soft now, sending tingling shivers of sensation down his spine and making something heady and sweet twist in his stomach-and Tony likes sex _loves_ it even, but he's self aware enough to realize how many times he's traded the act for the intimacy that follows. That cavernous emptiness in him that craves love and affection; he's been tossing it scraps for years. Steve is here now though, spelling out something that feels a lot like love with every action, kissing him and cherishing him despite everything in Tony that says he can never deserve this. When they part for air again, Steve shifts them around so Tony's laying half sprawled atop him.  “Let me take care of you sweetheart. Wanna take you on dates, show you off, make em all jealous.”

Oh god Tony's blushing, what the ever loving fuck, how does this keep happening? _Circulatory system, we have_ ** _ **talked**_** _about this._ His face is a traitor is what it is. Tony hasn't blushed this much since he was a too shy little kid who used words even the adults around him had to look up. It's new, daunting, he's out of his depth but he doesn't want to stop.

“Steve, the press-” Never let it be said that Captain America shaking his head in such a resolute manner didn't have the power to shut even him up mid sentence.

“The press can take a long walk. I don't care what they say, I want you Tony, all for myself.” Fuck, well, what Steve wants Steve gets. Jesus fucking Christ he is so screwed. Rhodey's going to laugh himself into an early grave.

“Yeah okay.” Tony mumbles.

“Really?” Steve actually sounds surprised, like Tony isn't the surest thing on the damn planet right now. He's looking at Tony like he's not a colossal fuck-up. Like Tony's the best thing that ever happened to him. He's looking at Tony like he hung the moon in the sky, and wow, does Tony not know what to do with that.

“Take me on a date, court me, do your forties thing to your heart's content, I'm all yours.” Tony's really impressed that his voice stayed steady for that whole sentence. Steve beams at him, but there's something satisfied in his gaze.

“You're all mine huh.” Well well, Captain Possessive, what _have_ we here.

“Oh yeah, every last inch of me.” It's maybe not the least lewd thing he could say, but it's pretty tame all things considered.

“Tony.”

“Uh huh.”

“Can we watch another movie?” Well, it was worth a try. Tony sighs, settling down against Steve and telling JARVIS to queue up Monster's Inc-Steve is having a passionate affair with PIXAR Tony just knows it. After a few minutes Steve pulls Jan's blanket back on and kisses the top of his head. Tony snuffles into the space between them sleepily. _This is really nice_ is the last thing he thinks before falling asleep on top of Steve for the nth time this evening.

 

 


	10. Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Capnana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!!!  
> Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out to y'all, but holiday giftfics ate my soul and my free time. This chapter is a lot longer than I originally intended, but what's new. 
> 
> I'm dedicating this chapter to my beloved esposa [Palindrome](https://justpalindrome.tumblr.com) because she sent me a capnana of my own-yes this plush really does exist and I love it.  
> And to [Pigeon](https://https://genderfluid-pigeon.tumblr.com/) my favorite birb and a wondrous contributor to some of the dialogue in this chapter. Ily birb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings for someone saying some nasty things about Tony's sexual history here, so look out for that if you're sensitive to that kind of assholery.
> 
> As always, your wonderful comments and kudos keep me from becoming an unproductive potato, I love them all.

* * *

 

Tony comes awake to the sensation of strong fingers stroking through his hair. He keeps his eyes shut though, enjoying the feeling of being touched gently. Steve is warm and solid beneath him, their legs tangled together beneath the blanket in a long continuous point of contact. Tony would be content to stay like this for hours, just letting Steve idly pet him while morning cartoons play on in the background. It should be at least mildly uncomfortable, his belt is digging into his waist and he's probably drooled on Steve's impressive pectorals, but it's not. It's sweet, domestic and _comfortable_ in a way Tony doesn't have a real precedent for. He wants to curl up in this, soak it in and roll around in it all at once-but he settles for rubbing his face against Steve's chest instead.

“Good morning, sleep well?” Steve murmurs, kissing the top of his head a few times until Tony shifts around to stare down at him with one open eye.

“Mmmguh-” Is all he can get out when Steve takes his silence as carte blanche to knead at his neck and shoulders. He groans, dropping his head back down and trying to convince himself he has things to do today. Lots of things, important super secret Iron Man things. Steve's fingers are in his hair, scratching over his scalp. Tony feels like he might just liquefy on the spot.

“You know” He mumbles around a mouthful of Steve's shirt. “If this whole superhero thing doesn't work out, you have a bright future as a massage therapist.”

“Yeah well, I only wanna massage you sweetheart, so my client list would be pretty empty.” Steve says with complete sincerity. Tony can't even think up anything to say to that, so he just sinks into the contact. If this is some kind of last moments wish fulfillment thing and he's off somewhere dying while this all plays out in his head, he hopes no one snaps him out of it.

“Can I get a good morning kiss Mister Stark?” Steve asks after a few minutes in which Tony has been trying and failing to regain his mental faculties.

“Oh god, listen, if my vast list of negative personality traits didn't scare you off, then my morning breath will definitely make you drop me like a hot potato.” Tony didn't intend to say all of that, but he hasn't had any coffee yet, uncomfortable honesty is his uncaffeinated baseline.

“Tony.”

“We're..not going to talk about what I just said. Ignore it, morning Tony is bad Tony, listen to nothing he says.” Tony mutters, resolutely refusing to meet Steve's eyes.

“I'm not gonna leave you over morning breath-” Steve cups his cheek in one big hand, thumb stroking just under his eye. “But if it really bothers you that much go brush your teeth and come back-and get dressed I'm taking my fella out for breakfast.” Steve's eyes are twinkling with amusement when they meet his, a soft smile curving his lips upwards.

“Kay.” He says for lack of the ability to come up with anything better in the face of Steve Rogers asking him on a date while sporting an amazing case of bedhead.

“C'mon, up then.” Steve says, completely shocking the hell out of Tony by giving his ass a possessive little pat and then urging him up. He firmly resolves to cop a feel when the chance presents itself next. Amazing. Steven Grant Rogers got a hand on Tony's behind without turning beet red. Tony squints at him suspiciously once he's on his feet; socked toes digging into the plush rug beneath him.

“You've been holding out on me Steven.” He grouses, pointing at Steve accusingly. “But I have decided to let that slide because I am benevolent and understanding.” Steve snorts in response, sitting up on the couch and winding him in to stand between his spread knees.

“That so, and here I thought you might like it.” Ah there it is, Steve's ears are a little red, but that doesn't seem to stop him from getting a double handful of Tony's backside and squeezing. Tony definitely does not let out a surprised little squeak at that. _Definitely didn't happen._ He does however contemplate eschewing brushing his teeth in favor of tackling Steve back onto the couch, but that can only lead to him sitting up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat agonizing about kissing Captain America with bad breath.

“Um, yes wow, so very on-board with your hands on my ass. God your hands are really big, I could just let you fondle me all day.” Tony might be babbling a little bit, but how could he not? Tony groans, combing his fingers through Steve's hair.

He really, really wants to get back on the couch, but his brain just won't shut up-running through countless scenarios as well as reminding him of his massive to-do list. Steve seems to sense his inner turmoil, slipping his hands up to press his thumbs right over Tony's hipbones. It's enough to derail his train of thought completely, and he stares down at Steve as if he's seeing him for the first time again. So apparently Steve really isn't shy. That's probably a good thing, because once he gets the go ahead, Tony is going to scale that wall of muscle if it's the last thing he does.

“Go brush your teeth Tony” Says Steve, standing to turn Tony towards the doorway, giving him a little swat to propel him into the hall.

“I just want you to know I am so, so on-board with that.” He calls back, practically skipping up to his room to make himself presentable for the world at large.

Face to face with himself in the mirror he nearly lets out a yell. His hair is an absolute wreck, there's stubble creeping up his neck, and his once pristine suit is completely disheveled. Tony blinks, tugging the unbuttoned collar of his shirt down to reveal the dark bruise right where his shoulder and neck meet. Tony sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, pressing at the mark and shivering with the memory of Steve putting it there.

“JARVIS I'm going to die of blue balls.” JARVIS doesn't dignify that with a response, choosing instead to turn the tap on to Tony's favored temperature for shaving.

“Yeah yeah, I hear you, oh disapproving child of mine.” He mutters, setting about brushing his teeth, shaving, and wrangling his hair into some semblance of order. Maybe he doesn't need to go through all this trouble, and maybe Steve doesn't mind him looking like a sleepy wreck, but Tony has an image to maintain here-and the less Steve sees behind the curtain the better. Not that there's really anything to maintain after the fiasco with Hammer, but a man can dream.

While he's drying his face off, JARVIS pops a message up on his screen. It's from Natasha, she's requesting a meeting later on in the day. “That's strangely formal, but alright then. Uh. Fit her into my five slot will you Jay?” A little ding meets his request, a calendar helpfully materializing with his list of appointments for the day. The next few hours are surprisingly empty.

“Weird, I'm sure I had a lot more on the agenda this morning. You glitching Jay, what's wrong, got a cold?”

“Sir I am not ill, I merely thought it wise to reorganize some of your lower priority meetings as it seems you have other plans, and I detected unusually high levels of exhaustion last evening.” Tony gapes at his mirror, but then snaps his mouth shut because it's really not a becoming look to see on his own face.

“Are you setting me up on a date? Oh my _god._ Pepper is going to skin me and make my hide into a pair of heels.” Even to his own ears he sounds just a tad bit panicky.

“I have already spoken with miss Potts and we have come to an agreement in regards to your present workload.” JARVIS sounds so very proud of himself. Tony blinks slowly. Maybe he's still asleep, maybe this is all a dream, or some kind of joke maybe? Tony will be watching closets closely for Peppers waiting to jump out and drag him into work.

“Captain Rogers appears to be waiting for you sir, shall I tell him you're on your way?” JARVIS says gently, interrupting his blank eyed staring into nothingness.

“Yeah. Uh-” Tony takes a good look at himself. “Yeah, tell him I'll be right down. Just gonna change shirts.” He says semi faintly. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and JARVIS pops the message up on a floating screen while Tony digs through his closet for some new threads. It's from Pepper, just two words: _Have fun._ Tony can't hold back the relieved laughter. It seems like everyone is in on this, he may as well.

Buoyed by no Pepper induced doom coming his way, he picks a red button up, tossing the old shirt into the laundry chute on his way out of the closet. If there's one thing he misses with his whole secret arc reactor business it's wearing comfortable t-shirts out in public. No matter how slim he makes the chest plating, how snugly the lip of the reactor sits against his chest; it's still too noticeable under thin cotton for his particular brand of paranoia. There have been many an op-ed piece concerning Tony's sartorial choices post Afghanistan. Speculation as to why he's almost always in a three piece suit when out in public as opposed to the more casual looks he used to favor abounds.

JARVIS takes particular amusement in showing him the stranger of the conspiracy theories, as well as the veritable flurry of activity that follows any appearances of one of his winter sweaters. Even the occasional hoodie seems to stir the pot. Tony frowns at himself in the floor length mirror near his bed as he does up the buttons of his shirt.

“JARVIS. Do you think he really knows what he's getting into? You know, the whole-” Tony flaps his hand. “dating Tony Stark thing?”

“I am assuming you mean Captain Rogers, as there is no one else who meets those particular parameters.” Tony snorts. _Smartass._

“I believe he is particularly suited to the task sir. He has spent extensive time in the public eye, and he has displayed a particular disdain for your detractors. Both of which make him an excellent candidate as a long term partner.” Tony blinks, then blinks again, clapping a hand over his own mouth to quash the hysterical little giggle that wants to escape.

“Oh my god JARVIS, have you been running compatibility _simulations_? Are you saying-” Tony jabs his finger in the air. “that you approve of your creator's uhhh” What is Steve to him now?

“Boyfriend? Lover? Partner?” JARVIS supplies much more gently than tony would have expected from his ever snarky AI. “Whatever the case, yes I have, and the results are overwhelmingly positive.” JARVIS finishes smugly, bringing up an array of charts, graphs, and one really sad video of Tony staring at a picture of Steve in the workshop after the whole gala incident of ultimate FUBAR-itude. Maybe that's not a word, he doesn't care, it is now.

“Yeah.” Says tony, swallowing thickly. “Yeah one of those sounds about right.” It's been a while since he had anyone around that ticked any of those boxes.

“Don't fuck this up Stark.” He whispers to his image in the mirror. Sadly his reflection looks just as lost as he does. Tony turns away, stopping by the door to his room to grab a pair of shoes, slipping them on and tying them snugly.

“Self lacing shoes JARVIS. Not everyone can bend down, or maybe you know, fine motor issues. Make a note.” He chatters away with JARVIS absently, shooting off a few emails to S.I.'s research and development department before he makes it back into the room with Steve, his words trailing off when he gets a good look at the man in question. He's still wearing the same clothes from last night, but a well worn leather jacket has joined the ensemble while Tony was off having a crisis. Typical. He always misses the exciting stuff.

“Well _hello_ tall blond and handsome.” Steve's smile is brilliant, and even prettier when he gets right in Tony's space to finally collect on that good morning kiss. Maybe he gets a little carried away, clinging tightly to Steve and rubbing up against all that prime American real estate, but can anyone really fault him for that? Tony thinks not.

Steve seems to agree, sweeping him in with one hand, deepening the kiss so effortlessly that Tony wonders if he was taking notes while they made out on the couch last night. That thought seems less important when Steve uses his grip to hoist Tony a little higher-making his feet leave the ground. It shouldn't be this hot, and typically he might balk at being so easily moved around, but this is _Steve,_ so it just makes Tony kind of want to climb him like a jungle gym.

“Walk of shame already?” Steve's mouth stills against his, and Tony groans, tilting his head back to glare at the person standing in the doorway.

“That would imply I'm ashamed of anything birdboy.” Tony punctuates the statement by wrapping his legs around Steve's waist while leering in Clint's general direction.

“Now you should leave before you get an eyeful of me sullying the innocence of a national icon.”

“Not much to sully here.” Steve says with a shrug when Clint gapes at them both. Clint's eyes get a little wider when Steve's hands migrate south to cup Tony's backside and give a good squeeze. Someone has a _thing_ it would seem. Tony grins.

“But we should go get breakfast anyway, you did say you'd let me take you on another date.” Steve says against his cheek.  He looks flushed and a bit like he might go for having Tony right on the luxurious woven rug beneath them, but he also has his determined face on, which means Tony may as well just give up already. As if in confirmation of their plans Steve's stomach picks that moment to grumble audibly. Tony laughs, letting his legs drop back to the floor, grabbing Steve's wrist to tug him towards the garage.

“Come on old man, let's go get your early bird special.” Tony can't resist prodding him just a little bit, but Steve just drags him closer, slowing their walk to throw an arm over Tony's shoulder, looking critically over all of the gleaming vehicles when they finally make it into the garage. As it turns out, stopping every few feet to kiss makes it awfully difficult to get anywhere fast. Not that Tony is complaining.

“So, pick a number, any number.” Tony says, indicating his cars with a wave of one hand.

“None of 'em. Wanna take my motorcycle. That fancy enough for your blood, gorgeous?” Steve's Brooklyn drawl should come with a warning.  Tony sputters, but manages to contain the little moan that threatens to slip out at the thought of Steve Rogers on his motorcycle. _Oh thank you god I'll be a good boy if he's serious_. He thinks only somewhat sarcastically.

“Um. Yes? Was that even a question?” Tony pauses. It's not warm outside anymore. “Need to get a jacket though if I'm going to be hanging off of you like I intend to.”

“Nah, here.” Steve strips off that soft leather jacket to wrap it around Tony's shoulders. Tony tries to control the expression on his own face, but it must show at least somewhat, because Steve smiles, cupping his jaw and thumbing over his kiss swollen lips.

“Yeah.” Steve murmurs, cheeks pinking a little when Tony slips his arms into the sleeves and does up the zipper. “I like that. Looks good on you.” The jacket is still warm and smells of well worn leather and Steve.

“Careful, I might just keep it.” Tony says, rubbing his hands over the warm buttery leather.  Steve smiles with satisfaction-as if that was the plan all along. Tony feels like he might have been played.

Steve's bike is in the section of the garage with the Avengers' various methods of transportation. Tony thinks the ramp covered in Captain America shields is understated by his standards. Steve thought it was a bit much, but Tony still loves it. The bike itself is gorgeous, vintage but kitted out with all the bells and whistles Tony could come up with-which is to say a whole lot of them. Tony presses a few buttons on the armor bracelets wrapped around his wrists. Iron Man won't be joining them but that doesn't mean Tony won't have the armor shadow them from high above.

The helmet Steve passes him is sleek, offering little bulk when Tony nestles up against Steve's back on the backseat of the motorcycle. Steve's stomach jumps when he tucks his hands beneath his shirt to press against warm skin.

“Hang on tight Tony.” Steve says, kicking the bike to life with a loud rumble of the powerful engine. Tony could have installed a push button start, but he knows Steve, so old fashioned kick start it had been.

“Don't mind me, I'll just be here leaching your body heat.” Tony's words are slightly muffled against Steve's shoulder.  He presses closer when Steve launches them off the ramp and out into the street-and Tony doesn't like being driven by someone else, but this, this is nice. Steve is so warm against him, guiding them through the streets without hesitation. The wind whips all around them, car horns blare, the city is alive with activity, but Tony just rubs his cheek against Steve's shoulder, closing his eyes and clinging tight until they pull into the parking lot of an honest to god train-car diner. 

“Summit Diner, didn't think it was still open, but JARVIS found it for me.” Steve says, helping him off the back of the bike.

“Summit.” Tony squints at the diner as if he's woken up in another world.

“Are we in _New Jersey_?” Steve doesn't dignify that with an answer, choosing instead to tug a gobsmacked Tony after him and into the restaurant-where a perky woman with flaming red hair takes their orders. It becomes obvious after a few moments that they haven't been recognized. Tony sips his coffee and watches Steve across the table, fighting down a giggle when he feels Steve's ankle press against his beneath the table.

“Footsie, Steven, what kind of boy do you think I am?”

“Oh I don't know, the kind that kisses on first dates.” Steve fires back without missing beat. Tony laughs, reaching across the table to steal Steve's untouched cup of coffee in retaliation-only to put it down after the first sip when Steve flips one of the big laminated menus up to obscure their faces when he leans across the table to pull him into a slow lingering kiss.

“I do a lot more than kiss on first dates, and this is our second one.” Tony murmurs against Steve's lips, reaching under the table to slide his hand over one of Steve's jean clad thighs.

“Behave.” Steve grits out in a voice that makes Tony want to do anything but. Still a no is a no, so he puts his hands properly back on the table, stealing another kiss just because he can, and leaning back in his seat to play footsie under the table like a good forties boy.

“Your pacemaker-” Steve says suddenly. “You rubbed your chest a lot while you were sleeping. Does it bother you?” Tony winces, but Steve just reaches over to lace their hands together.

“I'm sorry, did it wake you up?” The apology is almost reflexive by this point, but Steve watches him for a moment, blue eyes warm and assessing.

“Not what I asked.”

“Yeah sometimes, it's more uh. At night it-” Tony chews on his bottom lip, trying to think of a way to word this that won't put Steve into worrying overdrive. “Sometimes I'm more conscious of it than other times if that makes any sense. I know it's _there_ all the time, but some days it's harder to ignore.” Steve nods, lifting his hands to kiss over the knuckles.

“Does it hurt?” Steve asks, thumbs rubbing in slow soothing circles over the backs of Tony's hands.

“What when I fell from heaven?” Tony can't help it, and Steve looks amused at least, but the man is more bullheaded than an Ox. Tony knows he's not getting out of this conversation.

“Not really. Just kind of pressure, and an awareness that it's there.” It's a monumental understatement. Some nights he can't get comfortable. Some nights his chest burns with phantom pain so intense every breath rattles in his chest as if it could be his last. Some nights he can still feel Yinsen's hand in his chest, on worse nights it's Obie-Stane's. Steve doesn't need that knowledge though. Tony thinks Steve might know he's being bull-shitted, but he doesn't call him on the lie; just kissing over his knuckles again, blue eyes boring into his brown across the table.

“Is it dangerous if you get stressed?” Steve's concern is palpable, but he's not dragging down their date by detailing the situation in his chest, so Tony laughs, shaking his head.

“No Steve, it's definitely not. I don't exactly live the most low stress existence. It's safe to say that it handles my lifestyle very well.” Further questions stall when their food arrives, and Steve sets about inhaling a truly impressive amount of breakfast. Tony can only look on in awe as Steve puts away enough food to feed a small army. He feels like his two slices of bacon, toast, and egg white scramble are pretty sad in comparison.

They're almost finished with breakfast when the beeping of Steve's Avengers' communicator starts going off. Steve groans, but he's all business, whipping out his wallet to toss cash on the table. Tony almost protests and offers to pay himself, but Steve is already moving. Tony follows him out into the parking space where Steve kisses him, pressing him up against Steve's motorcycle until the quinjet lands in the street.

“I'm sorry.” Steve whispers, brushing their lips together one more time before pulling away.

“Be safe Steve, I'll give you a kiss if you win.” Tony says, completely serious.

“Counting on it Mister Stark.” Steve laughs, walking backwards towards the quinjet, eyes on Tony until the bay doors close and the jet is taking off. Tony waits until they're out of sight to call Happy.

“Hey boss, how's the date going?” Happy asks immediately, Tony feels bad for talking over him, but there's no time to gush about Steve. Which is truly a crying shame.

“Sorry Hap, come get Steve's motorcycle, sending you the location now, can't talk, gotta go.” He fires off rapidly, power walking over to an empty alley, waiting for his own ride. JARVIS does not disappoint. Within moments the armor lands, metal peeling back to let him in, and then closing up in a snug embrace. The armor's built in powercells dim on the screen as the Arc takes over all the heavy lifting.

“Let's go kick some ass Jay, I have a bone to pick with whoever interrupted my date.” It's a good thing he's had his coffee at least. Woe betide the villain that interrupts his morning coffee.

 

* * *

 

When he gets to the location Spiderman is already there. He greets them with a little fanboy dance of joy that Tony is both amused by and ignores for the kid's own dignity. Peter is a fully fledged Avenger now, but he still seems to think it's some kind of collective prank they're all playing on him. Tony pats his head carefully with one armored hand, snickering under his breath when he ends up with a spider kid crawling all over the suit cooing about the new upgrades. Anyone who loves his tech this much can definitely stick around-that the kid is smart and super strong doesn't hurt either. Even if the thought of someone so young throwing themselves into danger makes Tony a little queasy. Parker is going to do it anyway, he may as well have the Avengers at his back.

“Is our villain a carnie? Hawkeye, go talk to your people.” Tony says, scanning the nearby Ferris wheel and noting the caped idiot cackling at the very top.

“Shove it Iron Panties, he's not one of my people.” Hawkeye grouches, turning his nose up. “We had better costumes.” Tony can't help laughing at that.

“Tweety, you wore...you wore a _purple miniskirt_ before Stark made you new gear. Do not-” He cackles. “Do not lie to me Bird Boy.”

“Um guys” Peter all but squeaks.  They really need to work on his self confidence.  Carol huffs off to the side, and Peter visibly cringes. “Avengers I mean! Sorry, sorry-but he's giving a speech right now. Something about being lord of the carnival.” Clint looks up from where he's been lovingly stroking the shaft of one of his arrows. His eyes narrow over at their target.

“Oh hell no.” Clint growls. “That's my title you little-” Cap holds a quelling hand out.

“Plan please, what are his abilities? Would be nice to know before you draw his attention.” Steve says, and that's his Captain America voice for sure.  In the suit Tony grins, firing the repulsors to hover just above the team. The carnival looks completely untouched, save for the Ferris wheel rotating and glowing at a truly alarming speed. Tony calculates it a few times between one breath and the next, quickly coming to the conclusion that they are about to have a spinning wheel of death thrown in their direction.

“No time to plan Cap. Everyone with superstrength, we have a Ferris wheel to stop from achieving lift off.” Then he's streaking off, Cap confirming and shooting off more orders as they all descend on the caped menace.

“All shall bow to me, this carnival shall be mine, for I am The Gravitron!” Tony hates this guy already. How dare he name himself after Tony's favorite carnival ride? Maybe it's just based upon simple centripetal force-acceleration and curved paths, and orthogonal directions, but tony _loved_ trying to climb all the way up to the ceiling just because he could-even if the force pressed him down and made even the math in his brain slurry. It had been worth it for the thrill, and to see Jarvis' amused face when he came skipping out of the ride; dizzy and laughing and gleeful. Maybe it has something to do with his love of fast cars and playing with dangerously high g-forces. Maybe sometimes he imagines coming out of a roll in the armor that makes his vision black around the edges to Jarvis patting his head and asking him if he made it to the ceiling this time. _Not yet, still trying._ He thinks as he dodges a ripple of gravitational energy.

“Guys, can I _please_ shoot him in the face, I promise it won't kill him.” Hawkeye calls over the comms. “Much.”

Tony catches the Ferris wheel, firing the jet boots to slow the acceleration and compensate for the massive amounts of force being exerted on the supports holding it in place. His sound dampeners quiet the screech of metal on metal, but it's still loud enough to be wince inducing.

“Much?” Jan questions; the HUD of the armor shows her to be buzzing around Gravitron's head, shooting off energy blasts and distracting him enough that the Ferris wheel wobbles in a way Tony tries and fails not to be worried about. A Ferris wheel shouldn't be this heavy, but the thing seems to have been packed solid, gravitational maps confirm that an unknown force here alters the pull of gravity, rattling the ground beneath it, and weakening the soft earth beneath heavy slab concrete.

“Yes. He'll only be _mostly_ dead, tiny bit.”

“Disabling shots only Hawkeye.” He hears Cap say distantly, but Tony's mind is already miles ahead analyzing and extrapolating data. JARVIS projects what he already knows to be true, a lovely blue model of the Ferris wheel becoming the anchor for a gigantic sinkhole. Not good is an understatement

“Aw Cap, way to ruin my fun.” Hawkeye grumps, but Tony barely registers it over the shriek of his repulsors.

“Little _help_ here, we have a sinkhole to worry about if we don't take this guy down in oh, fifty seconds and change” Tony calls, and suddenly they're all business. A loud metal crunching clang sounds as Carol's hands join his in grabbing onto the Ferris wheel, and with her comes the thwipping taps of webbing hitting the other side, trying to compensate for all that acceleration and momentum. Some of the webs snap, but slowly the wheel begins coming to a stop.

All of their work becomes needless when Hulk makes it to the scene; taking one look at The Gravitron and jumping up into the air to wrestle him to the ground. Gravity maps ripple, the focus of the distortion focusing on the Hulk, weighting him and the villain down, pavement cracks, but it's all over when Cap jumps into the fray-slogging through high gravity to knock Gravitron out with a painful looking shield strike to the head.

“Woooh, victory, yeah baby that's what I'm talkin' about!” Hawkeye yells from his spot atop a corndog kiosk. Tony snorts, carefully letting go of the Ferris wheel, scanning the structural integrity a few times. It's not great, but it's in no danger of becoming a projectile anymore at least.

“You alright there Shellhead?” Cap asks, staring up at Tony as he comes in for a landing close by. The blue cowl really does nice things for his eyes. Tony thinks, watching as the hood is pushed back, and Steve's still somehow perfectly coiffed hair makes it's first battlefield debut of the day.

“I'm so good, great, great and good.” Tony stammers. Steve is suddenly _really_ close, hand over the reactor in his chest.

“Hey stars and stripes, stop fondling the armor and hear me out-” Clint's voice sounds amused. At some point he's acquired corn dogs from the vendor inside his perching spot. Tony stares at the curly haired teen inside who has apparently decided the excitement is over and has gone back to working the deep fryer. Tony is amazed. That kind of unflappability is impressive.

“Carnival games.” Clint says, taking a huge bite out of his probably ill gotten goods. Tony walks over to the kiosk, opening a panel in the armor and passing over a few crisply folded bills.

“You can't play carnival games Bird Boy, that's cheating.”

“Is not. Listen, maybe I just want funnel-cake okay. Stop judging, let me live.” Clint sounds so incredibly put out that Tony almost feels bad for him.

“You know what Hawkeye, why not? After SHIELD comes and picks up our friend here, don't want him waking up and causing another ruckus.” Steve says. His concession to Clint's carnie ways is met with a loud round of cheering from several of the other Avengers. Well, that settles it, looks like he's going to be in the armor for another few hours at least. Tony really hopes they don't expect him to ride anything in gold titanium alloy. A quick scan of the dinky little roller coaster tracks makes Tony want to weep into his helmet-or maybe show up with a wrecking crew to rebuild those death traps into something so much better.

“Our date got cut short.” Steve murmurs under his breath, Tony's head snaps in Steve's direction, but Steve's not looking at Tony, but instead down at his phone. Surely enough the HUD helpfully displays Cap's text to speech message within moments of it being sent. Huh. Steve has figured out text to speech, that's pretty impressive.

“I'll bring you something, I promise, wait up for me sweetheart?” There's a tiny fond smile curling at the corner of Steve's lips. He's staring down at his phone so affectionately that Tony wants to rip his helmet off and say 'It's me, I'm right here, kiss me all over!' Self control is a terrible invention and Tony is so sorry he still has any left. Natasha makes her way over to Steve, looking over his shoulder and grinning.

“That's a good picture of him. Cute.” Tony's eyes narrow, JARVIS helpfully focusing on Steve's phone to enlarge and rotate the picture on Steve's phone background. Once he gets a good look it's all he can do to contain his coughing. It's a picture of him sleeping on Steve's chest. He's definitely right on the verge of drooling. Steve just smiles wider, sweeping his thumb over the image on his screen.

“Yeah.” Steve raises his head, looking over at where Tony is standing there utterly still like a deer in headlights. “I think so too.”

 

* * *

 

SHIELD shows up about ten minutes later to cart their unfortunately dressed villain off in power dampening cuffs. Tony watches him go, the guy is still unconscious, probably concussed-he doubts gravity powers did anything to make the guy's skull more sturdy, but he probably should have thought of that before trying to become lord of the waffle cones or whatever his goals were.

“Here, know you can't eat stuff in that fancy tin can of yours, but I never could say no to a milkshake.” Steve says, passing over an honest to god malted milkshake. Where the hell he found it in the middle of a carnival, Tony has no idea, but hey, now he has a milkshake. Everyone is a winner.

“Thanks Cap, uh. What's on the agenda then? Skee ball? Darts? That strength test with the hammer? Because I hate to tell you this but Thor already broke it.” Tony says, gesturing over to their resident Asgardian and his gigantic lion plush.

“No hammer shall ever best mine.” Thor says proudly, hefting his prize up to the sun, his golden mane blowing majestically in the wind. Tony winces. He's definitely going to be replacing at least one attraction here, even though they're all obviously rigged.

“You think your boss would like one of those?”

“What, Thor? No I think he's happy with the super soldier he's got following him around lately.” Tony snarks, eyeing Thor's path towards another booth that demands feats of strength.  Tony foresees more bills coming his way, Thor and his massive biceps will not be tamed.  Steve laughs, oblivious to Tony's ongoing damage calculations, cuffing Tony on the shoulder companionably-but carefully, it barely registers.

“No, you know-do you think he'd like one of these prizes?” Steve looks so earnest, as if the thought of showing up empty handed is not an option. Despite his height and general supersoldier everything, sometimes Tony can really tell Steve used to be the kind of guy no one looked twice at.

“Honestly Cap, he'd probably like just about anything from you, because it's you that gave it to him.” There, Steve is smiling again, and it's not a lie. Tony's been given a lot of things in his life. Cars and watches, and you name it really-but there's few things people have given him out of simple affection. He can count on two hands gifts given to him that came with no strings or stipulations or expectations attached.

Steve eats two funnel cakes while they walk around the carnival searching for something apparently worthy of Tony. Steve is clearly on a self assigned mission of some sort. Tony has no idea what they're searching for, but he still follows along, curious as to what Steve will end up settling on, and more than a little charmed by the idea that even right after a battle Steve's first thoughts were of him. There's powdered sugar on his bottom lip, and Tony's mouth is cold from drinking his milkshake. He thinks the two flavors would go together well, but he doubts Steve would appreciate having the helmet mashed against his face-not to mention the whole secret identity thing. Getting punched in the face by a pissed off Captain America even while in full armor is definitely not on Tony's bucket list.

“What about that?” Steve asks, coming to a halt so abruptly that Tony nearly runs into him. Following Steve's line of sight produces a-Tony does a doubletake-giant banana plush? It's bright yellow, made of a soft velveteen material, with big ridiculous hearts for eyes. Tony starts laughing before he can even fully process what his eyes are seeing.

“Oh, oh god, yes. He will love that for the sole reason that it's a _banana_ of all things.”

“I think it's cute.” Steve says innocently, reaching up to pat the very phallic and very yellow stuffed fruit, where it hangs in a display among multitudes of other stuffed fruit near the top of the game stall. “You don't think Mister Nanners is cute?” Steve says, face completely serious, but the corners of his lips twitch tellingly.

“Mister _Nanners._ ” Tony sputters, and Steve points at the sign with the names of the prizes scrawled in haphazard handwriting.

“That's his name on the sign Shellhead, don't be rude. I'm going to win him for Tony, what do you think?” Steve is already paying for a few game tokens though. The girl manning the booth watches him apprehensively, handing him a baseball to throw at a row of tin cans with rubber ducks stacked atop them.

“Yeah your profits are about to take a dip, sorry about that.” Tony shrugs as Steve winds up his shot and throws the baseball harder than is strictly necessary-ducks and cans go flying everywhere. Steve smiles over at Tony when he's handed another ball, before staring down his new targets. Tony wants to swoon maybe just a little bit. Steve looking all focused and intent does _things_ to him, it's not his fault.

“I just need three and then I win the big prize right?” Steve asks their sullen audience after demolishing the second row. She just stares at him, the star on his chest, the shield on his back, and then over at the armor. Tony gives her a jaunty little wave and she slumps, rummaging around in the back of the stand to produce a brand new giant banana plush. The heart eyes stare up at Tony when Steve shows it to him proudly.

“Take a picture, wanna send it to Tony.” Steve says, passing over his phone and standing there; managing to look both enticing and patriotic while holding a ridiculous stuffed fruit. Tony has no idea how he manages to make it work, but he _does._

Moments after handing the phone back over Tony gets the text. Steve has drawn little hearts around the banana. The caption reads 'It's Banan-a long day, hope to see you soon.'

“Jay, tell him he looks great.” Tony manages to get out, trying and failing not to laugh.

“Oh my god, what a...what a _dork._ Fuck I love him _.”_ Tony blinks. Even JARVIS is utterly silent _,_ sending off his message without comment. Beside him Steve is tapping away at his phone, a fond expression making his features soft. Sunlight combs warm fingers through the golden blond crowning Steve's head, the blue of his eyes is a color Tony has only seen in paintings. Beneath the arc his heart gives a strange and worrying twist in response to Steve hugging the plush against his cheek and snapping another picture to send to Tony. Oh. He thinks. Oh yeah I really _do_ love him. Fuck.

 

* * *

 

Tony makes it back to the mansion after their on the spot debrief before the others do. He showers, trying and failing not to mull over the realization of exactly how strongly he feels for Steve. Tony and love go together like oil and water. Or rather, Tony loves strongly, deeply, almost overwhelmingly; but people in the past have taken that and stomped all over it, used it against him, and mocked him for it in turns. He doesn't think Steve is like that though. Even at their most manipulative, Tony has never had anyone look at him the way Steve does, and the fact of the matter is, he's never had anyone remotely like Steve seek his attentions. Steve is neither a socialite, nor scientist, nor heir or heiress to a rival company; that novelty alone is enough to keep Tony from jetting off to one of his distant houses to panic about his new revelation in private. Steve effectively has nothing to gain from being with Tony. In fact he has something to lose-his privacy, his peace, the ability to walk down the street mostly unbothered. Steve has said none of that matters to him, and Tony wants so badly to believe him, he really does.

 _Even with the danger I would still want you._ Steve's words in the limo the night of the gala come back to him. Steve doesn't say things he doesn't mean; trolling annoying members of the press notwithstanding. The man's moral fiber is unimpeachable, none of the usual slyness Tony has come to expect lies hidden and lying in wait for him to let his guard down. Then again-Tony thinks; his hand pressing over the reactor beneath his warm sweater-he's not exactly being completely honest with Steve either.

“What are you doing?” He whispers to himself, jumping slightly when JARVIS cuts through the silence with his crisp words.

“Sir, Captain Rogers approaches, he states he has a gift for you.” As if on cue, there are five precise knocks on his door. Tony swallows, going to look at himself in a floor length mirror, before allowing JARVIS to let Steve in the room.

 _Fuck it._ He thinks somewhat recklessly, watching Steve and his Captain America uniform come strolling into the room to set a big brightly colored bag by the door. He arranges it carefully there so it doesn't topple over, and then he's walking right up to Tony, cupping his face between warm gloved hands.

“Hi Steve, welcome back, how did it go, oh..” Tony gasps, because Steve has decided to answer by kissing him with such thorough focus that Tony contemplates offering to get on his knees. Or he would, if he didn't know Steve was so bent on this whole _courting_ thing.

“Went really well, whole team was great, but Iron Man was particularly impressive.”

“Mhmm, yeah..hi there Darling-” Tony says distractedly against Steve's lips, before what he said registers “wait, really?”

“Yeah, some quick thinking on his part saved us from a whole lot of property damage. I woulda told him after the debrief, but he jetted off in a jiffy.” Steve drops another kiss on his cheek, smiling down at Tony fondly. Tony blinks up at him owlishly, fighting down the giant smile threatening to overtake his whole face. Steve thinks he did well! Steve is pleased with Iron Man-Captain America is _proud_ of him. Tony is really glad Steve isn't a mind reader for many reasons, because his brain is doing the equivalent of happy backflips, and it's kind of embarrassing. He kind of wishes he had the faceplate to hide behind right now because keeping control of his expression is a lot harder than it should be with Steve right there being every one of Tony's dreams come true.

“I'll um...pass that along if I see him before you do.” Tony manages, aware that the silence has stretched on a bit too long while he's been staring up at Steve with veritable stars in his eyes. Steve nods, stroking over his cheek wordlessly, blue eyes so intent on his face that Tony feels stripped bare; as if he could tell Steve anything in the moment, and Steve would say 'yeah, I know that already.' Tony licks his lips, closing his eyes to pull himself together.

“Have a present for you.” Steve murmurs, the smile on his face verging on a shit eating grin when Tony opens his eyes to squint up at him suspiciously.

“Is it that so?” Tony laughs, the gravity from before melting away as Steve produces his big yellow prize from inside the bag he set down by the door.

“Mister Nanners, reporting for duty. He'll keep you safe when Shellhead's off being a hero.” Up close and without the faceplate on, the stuffed banana is somehow even more ridiculous. It's also a lot softer than Tony would have thought, and pleasantly squishy when Tony hugs it close and laughs helplessly at the smitten look on Steve's face. Tony pets over the fuzzy velveteen material, contemplating how much sillier it would look if he made it a special Captain America cowl and shield.

“You're planning something.” Steve says, tone accusatory but it's clear he's trying not to laugh.

“Darling, I'm _always_ planning something. I thought you knew this.” He squeezes the plush against his chest, looking down at it contemplatively, tracing over the embroidered hearts it sports for eyes.

“Steve, I know you're bent on this courting business, but I want to give you gifts too.” Tony says, and Steve sighs, leaning in to rest their foreheads together. This close the faint flecks of silvery gray are visible in his irises. Tony swallows reflexively at the gentle touch of Steve's fingers rubbing at the nape of his neck.

“I know you do.” Steve says quietly.

“It means a lot to me though, to bring you stuff, to show you how special I think you are. I don't want you to feel obligated to give me gifts. Never want you to feel like you're being used Tony, I want to give you everything.” Steve shakes his head, brushing their lips together.

“I can't give you gifts that will impress you, grand stuff that's fancy enough for a fella like you-” Tony just can't deal with that.

“Steve are you out of your mind?” Tony mutters, grabbing Steve by the front of his Stark Tech suit and planting a kiss on him that they both feel in their toes.

“I love it, I love your gifts okay. You could give me a fucking-” Tony flails for words, stealing another kiss when Steve seems at a loss too. “Singing fish. You could give me one of those stupid singing fish and I would still love it. Because it's from _you_ Steve”

“Do you _want_ one of those singing fish?” Steve asks, laughing when Tony grumbles and prods him in the sides; laughing louder when he gathers Tony close, squishing the banana plush between them, and Tony turns his face away in a huff while Steve rubs his cheek against the top of Tony's head and coos to him in French.

“I do not want a singing big mouth Bass, no. Also, did you just call me your little cupcake?” There's a telling sparkle in Steve's eyes, and Tony speaks French, he doesn't need the clarification as it is.

“Well, you're short and sweet.” Steve says, snickering when that sets Tony off into an insulted rant.

“I am _not_ small. I am _normal_ sized, it's not my fault that you and Thor are giving the Jolly Green Giant a run for his money. I'm not even that much shorter than you Steven, this is discrimination against those of us with non godly physiques is what it is.” Tony grumbles, trying to maintain his dour demeanor in the face of Steve picking him up and swinging him around. It's not working out very well for him.

“I like your physique. I like it a lot.” Steve says, dropping into the loveseat at the end of Tony's bed and drawing him close.

“Oh yeah, tell me all about this appreciation.” Tony says, suddenly so very over his offense when Steve tugs the plush away and hoists him up into his lap by the backs of his thighs.

Before they can take a dive into whatever thoughts are making Steve shift around in obvious interest, one of Tony's calendar holograms pops up. Natasha's impending appointment glows out at him, and there's no way in hell Tony is going to stand Natasha up. He's not sure what would happen if he didn't show, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

“Steve, hold that thought, god, I'm sorry. Natasha made an appointment with me at five, sounded important.” Steve sits back, but doesn't protest when Tony slips off his lap to slink off into his walk-in closet.

“Wonder what it's about.” Steve muses, eyes going dark and hot when he gets a good look at the suit Tony selected. That kind of look is almost like a physical caress, Tony feels it down to his toes. Rhodey was right, the Tom Ford was definitely the right one to go with, if the way Steve watches him is anything to go by.

“You like it?” Tony asks, bending to tie the laces on his oxfords, smiling to himself when he gets a flustered nod from Steve in response.

“Kind of don't want to let you out of the room.” Steve admits, sitting back on the loveseat and raking his eyes up and down Tony's body with a hungry possessiveness that leaves Tony almost considering playing roulette with the Widow. But no. No. Even Tony is not that reckless, and he's _curious,_ Natasha never requests meetings unless she's onto something big. _I could be onto something big._ He thinks, only somewhat morosely, staring down the line of Steve's body. No. Snap out of it Stark.

“Right Okay, time to go!” He says, pulling an about face to keep from crawling right back onto Steve's lap.

Still, he takes the time to arrange his new plush carefully atop the chest of drawers opposite his bed; fiddling with it until it can stand on its own leaned up against the wall. Behind him Steve has gotten up. He slips up behind Tony, tapping his shoulder to collect on his goodbye kiss. Tony really doesn't want to leave, but he has an appointment to make.

 

* * *

 

Natasha is waiting for him when he makes it into his office in the Penthouse atop S.I.'s Manhattan headquarters. The reinforced catsuit zipped all the way up to her neck, and the downward tilt at the corners of her lips tells Tony this isn't a courtesy call. He eyes the leather-bound binder on his desk warily, coming to rest his hip against the dark wood. These things are somehow worse if he's sitting down, he prefers to get bad news standing up anyway.

“I'm going to cut right to the chase.” Nat says, heading him off before he can even open his mouth.

“We went back to that cave.” She starts, and Tony feels something in his chest clench. Which cave? He wants to ask, but the words won't come out. “The one with that thing from Asgard.” Natasha continues, indicating her leather folder of probably terrible news. Tony swallows, picking it up and gingerly flipping it open.

“Is this-” Tony blinks down at the object inside, eyebrows rising nearly up into his hairline.

“A tie clip. Engraved, almost solid platinum with a diamond set into the top. We found that on our sweep through the cave.” Natasha says, bright red nails drumming over the arm of her chair. Tony picks up the clip, turning it from side to side. Up close he can see a tiny serial number engraved on the piece of metal, along with a pair of initials laser cut into the material.

“Huh. I doubt our fair dragon monster had any use for a fancy paperclip.” He murmurs, fighting the urge to rub at his chest with the memory of that thing trying to rip the arc out. “I'm betting you've already run the serial number.”

“Tony, what do you take me for? Of course I have.” Natasha smiles, sitting forward in her seat to produce a thin slip of paper. It's a receipt from a high end store with a long obnoxiously flourishing signature scrawled across the purchase record.

“Hammer.” The contempt oozing from his words almost palpable in its conviction.

“Justin Hammer.” Natasha agrees, sitting back in her chair with all the satisfaction of a hunter having found her prey.

“I think.” He says slowly.

“That we have a visit to make to SHIELD.” Natasha finishes for him, smiling and rising to her feet, all predatory grace and poise.

“You know, if that thing had really hurt you, we would have had to get you out of the armor.” She murmurs, looping her arm through his. Tony sighs, patting her hand and pushing off the desk, drawing his cellphone out to shoot off a few texts to his various other appointments.

“If that's how everyone found out, then that would have been it.” He resolutely does not look at her, tapping away busily at his phone. Pepper is on the warpath, Hammer should be happy he's safely within SHIELD custody.

“Tony.”

“We are not having this conversation right now, I have a hammer to roast over an open fire.”

“Tony you need to tell everyone. Everyone cares about you.”

“Yeah, sure they do, while I'm their friendly, neighborhood philanthropist slash provider of fun tech stuff. I really doubt they would be game to have a guy who didn't have enough sense to know his father figure was selling his weapons and wanted him dead flying around playing at being a superhero.” Beside him Natasha is silent, but he can feel her gaze boring into the side of his face, and the words just spill out of him in a long torrent.

“I'm not a real hero Nat, I am just _pretending._ Fury said it himself.”

“Fury is full of shit a lot of the time, but he wanted you to be part of this team. You know that.” Her words are sincere, her red, red lips turning down, and the grip she has on his hand tightening as she pulls him around so they're face to face.

“You do know that don't you?” She asks, eyes narrowing when Tony sighs, raking a hand over his face and shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I know about the whole-” He flaps his hand expansively. “Reverse psychology thing and that he's actually secretly doing a happy little tap dance that I'm funding this team and keeping us away from the world security council's grubby little fingers.” Natasha just stares at him, completely unimpressed by his speeches as she ever is.

“Steve loves you, you know?” Tony gapes at her, trying to wrap his mind around that non-sequitur.

“He'll love you whether you're our backer or the man he trusts most to fight at his side. You don't have to keep this from him.” She says, her words careful and gentle. She's talked to him like this once before. He was dying then, he wonders if she knows something he doesn't. When he gets back to the mansion JARVIS is going to be tasked with running scans of the reactor _just in case._

“How do you think he would have felt if that thing _had_ gotten the reactor? He doesn't know you can't live without it Tony.” Her words are still soft, but there's steel slipping into them now.

“Not important, didn't happen.” Natasha doesn't look particularly pleased with him, but what's new.

“Nat, I'm _fine._ And Steve would have gotten over it, I don't know where you're getting that he loves m-” The elbow jabbing into his side doubles him over into a coughing fit. Before he can get his wheezing under control, the door to his office is sliding open to reveal all of the Avengers currently in the tower in fresh gear. Ah, so that's what the elbowing was about, they have company.

“Um.” He says, rate of blinking increasing when Nat passes him off to Steve. “Hello? Are we having family night and no one told me? I didn't think it was my turn to pick the movie?”

“Nat told us about the tie clip.” Says Steve, drawing him close with a firm but gentle hold on his elbows.

“We're here to offer assistance, if you need it.” Carol says, smiling at Tony when he gapes at her wordlessly.

“We're gonna stand behind you and look intimidating, I brought my pointiest arrows.” Clint sounds excited at the prospect of menacing Justin Hammer. “And my murder face, I also brought my murderface. Learned it from Nat.” Natasha snorts, striding over to Clint and shoulder checking him with clear affection.

“If he doesn't talk, Widow will take over, but we thought you should try and get the bastard to spill his guts first.” Jan's Wasp costume looks particularly shiny today. Tony wonders if she added a fresh coating of color reflective cells to it. Everyone is looking at him, including Steve. It becomes obvious to him, that they're all waiting for something, and Tony feels that strange foreign realization steal over him like a wave. They all want to come with him, they really _do_ care.

“Okay.” He forces out thickly.

“Okay, let's go then, I'm guessing you all came in the quinjet.”

“Indeed we did, the Man of Iron was not present, but we thought it likely he was with you Anthony. Regardless, we would offer our assistance, and our solidarity as warriors as you face down your foe on the battlefield of words.”  Thor announces as if this sort of thing is just another day's work for him.  He supposes that Thor  _is_ a prince after all; he's probably done his fair share of political posturing to go along with displaying his rippling pectorals to best effect. 

“Thanks Thor, I appreciate the um. Sentiment.”

“And if words prove unsuccessful then I shall pummel the fool with my hammer. He toys with things he understands not.”

“No pummeling please Thor. As funny as that would be, he would probably die.” Jan pipes up, saving Tony from saying the same. Thor looks kind of bummed out about not being able to smack Justin Hammer with an implement of the same name. Tony sympathizes.

“Iron Man gonna be joining us?” Steve asks quietly, tugging him close to walk arm in arm towards the jet parked innocuously on the compound's helipad. Tony nods, pointing over to the red and gold armor standing just beside the jet. JARVIS is definitely getting some new servers, he's been so great about this whole running interference thing. _Go team_ he thinks only slightly hysterically, when the armor comes striding over to squeeze his shoulder; blue eyeslits glowing down at him as he's ushered up onto the Jet's boarding platform.

“Don't worry.” Steve says, broad hands securing him into the chair harness as the engines begin their telltale warm up. “Won't let him touch you.” Tony swallows, staring up into glittering blue eyes wordlessly.

“I'll be fine Steve, really.” Tony says, trying for annoyed but arriving at fond instead.  Steve just smiles, leaning in to press the ghost of a kiss over his lips.

“I know, but maybe I'm just a little pissed off at the guy that tried to hurt my friend and the man I love.” Steve says with the sort of lack of hesitation Tony has come to expect from one of the most stubborn people Tony has ever met. Tony feels like his eyes might pop right out of their sockets. Steve said that as if he and Iron Man are the same person. Steve loves him? Steve _loves_ him! Off to the side Natasha is polishing her nails against her uniform, Tony steadfastly ignores her.

“Steve.” He whispers, glance darting around to the other Avengers spread out all around them as the jet hovers up from the helipad smoothly. None of them seem to be paying them any mind, except Clint. Natasha turns in her chair, clearing her throat, and he hastily makes a show of looking out the window, whistling as if nothing out of the ordinary is going on.

“We'll talk later.” Steve says, turning away to go buckle into his own seat beside Tony, taking his hand in one wide palm; thumb rubbing small soothing circles over scarred knuckles. Tony just nods, even though he wants to rip his harness off to climb all over Steve and tell him just how mutual the feeling is.

Oh, he's in _so_ much trouble.

 

* * *

 

SHIELD is bustling with activity when they get there. Agents run this way and that, whispering to each other and looking through files in little groups. The whole setup reminds Tony of an ant colony. He supposes that would make Fury the queen. Tony shakes his head, ant queen Nick Fury is not a thought he wants pinging around in his brain. Ever. No matter how cute Disney tried to make the ant queen in A Bug's Life-and thank you very much Steve for reminding him of the existence of that movie-no matter how cute that was, real natural biology is rarely so adorable in insects at any rate. He's getting side tracked though, their guide through SHIELD's maze-like bowels is still talking, and Tony has heard all of it, but it doesn't seem all that interesting. Especially with Steve standing directly to his left like a sentinel. Natasha is at his right; the others fanning out behind him in a show of support so imposing that he's seen a few agents backflip into side rooms to get out of the way.

Hammer has been moved from his high security cell to one with physical bars in place of the electrical stasis field. In here it's quiet, the SHIELD agent stepping into the background to allow Tony to walk right up to the bars.

Hammer is in an orange shield issue jumpsuit, looking far too chipper for a man who's company is coming apart at the seams. He watches their progress with a sly little smile, but Tony's eyes are sharp enough to catch the tiny tremor right at the corner when he catches sight of the armor.

“Tony, Tony, Tony, coming all the way out here to visit little old me, and you brought friends too, how much did you pay them to come with you?” Hammer sounds as nasal and slimy as ever.  Tony ignores him, nodding to Natasha, who passes him the leather folder.

“Shut up Hammer, I'm not here to put on a charade for you. This was found in a cave in the Smokey's. Know anything about that?” He's proud of the cutting quality of the words, the steadiness of his own hands when he produces the tie clip. The clear diamond inset into the platinum reflects light around the room in tiny rainbows. Hammer doesn't seem happy to see it at all.

“Never seen that before in my life.” Hammer says, voice cracking like a teen boy just hitting puberty.

“Oh yeah, because we have your name on a receipt for it, and the credit card records track right back to you, so you might want to rethink that statement.” Tony says acidly. Behind him Steve shifts, and Hammer's beady little eyes narrow to stare at him.

“Oh so you brought your big blond boytoy with you, well at least he's good for something” Hammer says, as if Steve's presence leaves a bad taste in his mouth, and Tony wants to punch him right in the face, but he maintains his calm by remembering years of his mother teaching him how to smile in the face of people he despises. It's one thing for Hammer to insult him, it's another thing entirely for him to talk shit about _Steve._ Still, he's here for information, and information he will get.

“Captain America, you idiot, that's Captain America, and you or whatever the hell you're involved in nearly caused a major injury to an Avenger.”

“Real pissed off about that Son.” Steve interjects, and Tony has to hold back a giggle. Only Steve could manage to call a man older than himself 'son' and sound completely justified in doing so. It must be another one of his super powers. Hammer doesn't look impressed however, lip curling contemptuously as he glares over at Steve.

“Oh I see, did Tony here let you have a fun ride? He's good for that. Great guns and great head, or so I hear.” Hammer spits out, all sly words and innuendo. Behind him, Steve has gone frighteningly still. Clint's softly whispered _'Oh shit'_ is lost on Hammer though, and he plows on, oblivious to the super soldier staring him down through the bars. Tony feels as if he's standing on some razor's edge. Steve had said he loved him, but Hammer is detailing some of his more sordid history now, and how can Steve ever look at him the same way again. This is it, the bullshit straw that breaks the camel's back. Steve deserves better, deserves someone that doesn't have a list of very public bad decisions trailing him, Steve is- _staring at Hammer as if he'd like to knock his teeth out_.

One moment he's at Tony's shoulder, the next he's reaching through the bars, faster than the strike of a Cobra. Hammer lets out a sound like a wounded animal when super strong hands wrap around his throat, and lift his feet clear off the ground.

“Steve! Steve, holy shit, balsa wood Steve, oh my _god_.” Tony says, and really he needs to have a talk with himself, because he _should_ be upset by the sight of Steve letting go of Hammer's throat to grab the front of his jumpsuit instead-and he _should_ be trying a little harder to talk Steve down when he starts slamming Hammer against the bars, but it's an inspiring sight, and Tony is only human.

“Steve, put him down, you're going to kill him, and then you'll end up getting arrested.” Jan says, hands up in a placating gesture.

“I'd like to see 'em try.” Steve practically growls. “I'm an American icon, or so they keep telling me. They can't touch me.” That was definitely a growl.  Hammer starts screaming, and Tony wants to scream too, but for completely different reasons.

“You can touch _me._ ” Tony whispers, blinking when he realizes he said that out loud. Steve pauses in shaking Hammer with more force than the heavy duty cycle of a washing machine, looking over at Tony with an intensity that suggests he should take his pants off. Tony licks his suddenly dry lips.

“Not helping.” Natasha says from beside him, Tony shrugs, he tried, and getting Steve to let go of something once his mind is set is like prying turkey from an Alligator's mouth, or something like that. Anyway, point stands, and no one seems all that intent on helping Hammer. Clint is just whispering 'oh shit' to himself with increasing volume.

“Perhaps you should not have insulted fair Anthony, this is the price one pays.” Thor says sagely, watching Steve in a way Tony can only qualify as impressed. Tony agrees.

“You'll feel bad if you seriously injure him.” Sam reasons, ever the voice of logic, even when he's doing loop-de-loops in the sky and antagonizing Barton. Okay, so maybe Sam is just as much of a danger junkie as the rest of them, but Tony digresses.

“No I won't.” Steve says darkly.

“Oh god, no he won't, oh yeeeah.” Tony groans, arousal warring with morality for the nth time since this whole throttling business started.

“If you let him go, Tony will give you kisses!” Jan says suddenly. The room goes silent, Hammer looks like he might have lost consciousness; dangling limply from Steve's hold. The tense line of Steve's shoulders eases, and he looks over at Tony. “Then Widow will question him, because um-” She trails off, watching Hammer fall to the ground with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, he lays there for a moment before scuttling off to hide in the corner of his cell-and would you look at that, he's _not_ unconscious after all.

“Widow, we need that information.” Steve says, all business, but his eyes are locked with Tony's.

“Don't worry, I'm on it Cap.” Natasha's smile is more than a little scary, but she's on his side. Everyone in this room is on his side. Well, other than Hammer of course, but it's a novel concept.

“C'mon, I'm collecting on that promise.” Steve says, smiling at him warmly as if he wasn't just shaking a man like a pair of maracas. Tony nods. His heart is pounding in his chest as they walk out into the hall. Through the little porthole of a window he sees Natasha walk into Hammer's holding cell. He almost feels sorry for the guy. Almost, but not quite. A few SHIELD agents start to say something to Steve as they move through the halls, but the look on his face seems to stop them in their tracks, and they back away, leaving Tony to be tugged along at a speed just shy of urgent behind him.

“Side room.” Steve says suddenly, fingers squeezing his wrist carefully to pull him into an empty room. There's a table, a few chairs scattered around, but overall it's pretty clear no one has been using it for quite some time.

“Oh god Steve, honey, baby, darling, that was the hottest-” Tony gasps when Steve crowds him up against the wall at last, that big body pressed all along his as Steve brackets him with his arms. “-thing I've ever seen. I probably shouldn't encourage you, but god _Steve_ ”

“Jan said I'd get kisses from my fella if I stopped. That true mister Stark?” Steve asks, peeling one hand from the wall to grab Tony's chin and tip his head back. Tony nods emphatically, throwing his arms around Steve's neck and going up on his toes; an action soon rendered obsolete when Steve reaches down and picks him up by the thighs to hold him pinned. If he was half hard before, it's nothing compared to what he feels when that effortless strength is so clearly on display. Forget not being offended by Steve manhandling him-he's so far past not offended it's not even in the same stratosphere.

“I think this may be a new kink.” He murmurs dazedly when Steve hefts him up a little higher and leans in to brush his lips over Tony's almost questioningly-as if he's hesitant to take what tony so clearly wants to give-even if he has Tony pinned and spread against the wall easier than breathing. Another brush of those lips, and Tony lets his mouth open against Steve's, invites him in with little kitten licks of his tongue against Steve's, and suddenly all that hesitance is gone. Tony flips off the cameras he knows are there behind Steve's back. _Get an eyeful Fury, watch me plant my flag on this all American soil._ He hopes Nick is sobbing into his eyepatch.

He has no idea how long they spend wrapped up in each other in an abandoned SHIELD room, but Tony thinks he may have left his sanity somewhere in the perfect curl of Steve's tongue against his. Actually, that's a lie, not the part about the sanity, but the part about not knowing how much time has passed. Barring kidnapping and caves, Tony has a really unfortunate grasp on the passage of time, an unpleasant consequence of having a mind that just never stops. Still, while kissing other people he's designed entire aircraft carriers, with Steve it's all he can do to keep a handle on what time it is. The man is _skilled._ Skilled and so sweet with his little sounds, and the way he whispers praise into his ear.

“Christ.” He groans, knocking his head back against the wall as Steve kisses over his jaw.

“This isn't the best time I know, but I'm kind of afraid you'll run off if I let this settle.”

“What, what are you talking about, I'm not going anywhere.” Tony feels like he's missing a puzzle piece here. Steve sighs, resting their foreheads together; eyes so blue and earnest despite how obviously aroused he is.

“What I said in the jet, on the way here.” Tony feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. Steve is going to take it back. After what Hammer said about him he's going to say it was a mistake. Maybe he still wants the physical aspect, but telling Tony he loved him was a mistake. Tony's heard this before, Steve will probably be nice about it, but in the end it always means the same thing; sorry Tony, but you're just not good enough.

“Tony, Tony, look at me, breathe sweetheart.” Steve's face swims back into focus when he opens his eyes. Funny, he doesn't even remember having closed them.

“It's fine, I get it.” He croaks, letting his legs slip back down to the floor. It doesn't work out so well though, because Steve is still holding him up. His legs dangle for a moment, before Steve gets the memo and slowly sets him back on his feet.

“Get what?” Steve sounds so bewildered. “Tony, I love you, I'm in love with you.” He can't have heard that right, but Steve continues on doggedly, taking his chin in his hand to kiss him between words.

“I love you, I love your tech, I love the way you mutter to yourself and you don't seem to notice you're doing it. I love when you fall asleep on me, I love the way your mind works even if I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of understanding how it works, how _you_ work-but I don't have to understand you to love you. And I do. Love you Tony.” Steve says, turning redder and redder as he speaks. It shouldn't be romantic, a love confession in an unused SHIELD room certainly isn't the choreographed production some of his lovers have performed, and it's all the more real for it.

“I..I-” Tony stammers out. Steve shakes his head, kissing him again, gently, carefully.

“Don't have to say it back, just wanted you to know.” That's not right, Steve can't possibly think the feeling is anything but mutual.

“You make me want to be better, a better man, a better...everything.” Tony whispers.

“You don't have to be better, just want you to be you Tony.”

“High praise, but that's just it, you...you change me by your proximity. I'm not half as good at well-at anything as I am when I'm doing it next to you” He thinks of everything he's achieved in the past and present. He can measure success by which of his projects he feels Steve would be proud of. There's not a whole lot in his past as a defense contractor that fits that bill, but he's trying, and maybe it will never be enough, but then he thinks of the expression on Steve's face when he showed him the water treatment facilities going up all over the world, and he feels like he could make a home in this _trying._

“I love you Steve.” There, it's out there in the open, he's said it before his nerve can pack up and run away.

“Oh.” Steve says, a smile breaking over his face. “ _Oh Tony,_ sweetheart.” Steve is kissing him again, clasping him close and Tony just gives himself over to it, sinking into that love and warmth; uncaring of where they are, and the fact that Fury probably just got front row seats to their relationship drama. None of that matters because Steve _loves_ him. What's that saying? Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts? _Yeah, that's it_. Tony thinks, burying his fingers in Steve's soft hair and letting himself be kissed into oblivion.

“Got what we need-oh, sorry.” Jan giggles from the doorway when Tony peers at her over one of Steve's patriotically broad shoulders.

“We done here?” Tony asks, ignoring how wrecked his own voice sounds, Steve waits until Jan has skipped off to adjust himself surreptitiously. Tony would very much like to offer a blowjob or ten, but that's crossing a line with Fury even he doesn't want to tread over. That and, Steve would definitely say no. The thought is nice though, Tony adds that to his increasingly Steve centered spank bank.

“Back to the mansion for info-dumping I guess then.” Tony says, doing a little adjusting of his own while they make their way back to the jet. Steve just nods, draping an arm around his waist and rubbing his fingers over the silky material of his waistcoat.

“Nice of you boys to join us.” Natasha says from where she's standing on the boarding ramp to the jet. Her posture says 'commanding', but the look on her face is fondly amused.

“Do not blame me, I'm not the one that promised kisses.” Tony says with a shrug, giving JARVIS and the armor a high five when he joins them in walking up the ramp. Steve laughs, squeezing him a little more tightly against his side.

“You find out what you needed, what are we dealing with?” Tony asks, once the ramp has closed behind them, and SHIELD can no longer eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Yes.” Natasha says. Something in her eyes tells him he's not going to like the next thing out of her mouth.

“Does the name Tiberius Stone mean anything to you?” Tony would like to paint the universe a giant sign, and that sign would say 'fuck you universe'. Tony knows Tiberius Stone alright. They haven't spoken in years, not after Ty revealed his frankly disturbing crush and Tony ran for the hills. There was an attempted kidnapping, and while he could never pin it on Stone, he knows it was his doing. Childhood friends don't typically try to do that sort of thing one another, nor do they stalk each other with a focus bordering on the obsessive-but that's Tiberius Stone for you.

“Yeah, I know him.” This debrief is going to _suck._

 

 


	11. F43.12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings here for panic attacks, discussions of PTSD, sexual content, and Tony being a smidge masochistic about bruises. Also Tiberius Stone being a creepy, creepy asshole. If mentions of stalking are triggering to you, skip the section that begins with “Stop looking guilty" and ends with “Can you still get in touch-".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a while, I apologize for taking so long getting this hammered out. all I can say is that adulting sucks and I recommend it to exactly no one. A million, billion thank yous to those of you who allowed me to cry and carry on in your ear, and who cheered me on to keep writing even if it was only a few words at a time, yall are the real MVPS. The art in this chapter is thanks to the amazing [Faite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faite/pseuds/faite), truly thank you for sharing your talent with us. And also a wailing, hyper affectionate thank you to [Palindrome](https://justpalindrome.tumblr.com/), for proofreading this chapter and helping me get my shit together.
> 
> As always I love and appreciate your comments and kudos, they're worth their weight in gold <3

 

 

* * *

 

Tony refuses to say anything else on the subject of Tiberius Stone; sitting silent and tense in his seat on the quinjet until they arrive back at the mansion. It's like a bucket of cold water being thrown over them both after their heated confessions in the SHIELD compound. Still, Tony doesn't shy away when he takes his hand and twines their fingers together. Steve doesn't let go until they disembark, but that is only so he can wrap an arm around Tony's waist, drawing him close while they follow the others into the debriefing room. JARVIS follows them closely in the armor, resting a comforting hand on Tony's shoulder when he takes a seat at the debriefing table. Brown eyes widen slightly, darting around nervously as Tony seemingly realizes he's taken Iron Man's usual spot, but he relaxes visibly, deliberately. Steve says nothing, taking his own seat and giving Tony's leg a squeeze beneath the table. There's a heavy silence around the room. It's clear no one wants to press Tony, but the curiosity is palpable.

“So.” Tony says, breaking the silence at last; voice brittle with hidden nervousness. “I guess it's time to tell you all about Ty. Fuck I'm going to need a drink for this.” He mumbles the last part under his breath, sucking in a deep steadying breath.

“Shall I fetch you one?” JARVIS asks, fingers tightening on Tony's shoulder.

“I'll get it. Stark you look terrible.” Clint cuts in, pushing back from the table and going over to bang around in the in-room bar. Tony winces, but doesn't complain. He does pat the armored hand on his shoulder though, before letting his hands drop back to the table, where he immediately begins to fidget.

“Thanks Clint, your next arrows will be purple.” Tony says, raking a hand through his hair and pulling out his phone to tap away at it. Clint stills by the bar, capping the decanter slowly.

“Clint huh, not bird boy, or tweety? I thought you liked me.” Clint is obviously trying to lighten Tony's mood, and it works somewhat. The corners of Tony's lips turn up when the glass of single malt is passed into his hand.

“Thanks sweetums, you're still the best bird in the flock.” Tony murmurs with a slight smile. Sam crosses his arms over his chest, pointedly clearing his throat. “Oh? Did I start some sort of birdie competition?” The smile is real now, but drops off his face when Natasha nods over at him.

“Whatever Tony says, I believe him, I knew Ty too.” Jan's voice cuts through the room. She's perched in her chair, color high in her cheeks with sympathetic anger. Tony laughs, shoulders slumping. He takes a long sip from the glass before speaking again.

“Thanks Jan, okay so-Tiberius Stone, what a piece of work. We were friends once, grew up together, went to the same parties, dated in the same circles-that kind of thing.” Tony starts, pausing to take another drink. “I don't really know where it all went so wrong...”

“He was always jealous of you, kind of creepily obsessed.” Jan is speaking softly, but the anger on her face is plain to see.

“Yeah, he was that, but I didn't see it until it was too late. Story of my life, I'm a shit judge of character.” Tony grits out darkly, staring into his glass, seemingly watching the ice melt.

“Tony.” Steve says, drawing eyes of the same color away from the whiskey. He nods when Steve reaches for his hand, swallowing audibly as Steve pulls their chairs closer together and presses close.

“He-we were friends. I thought that's all we were, but he had other thoughts, other plans. Didn't really stop to consult me on that though.” The way Tony says it, the dismissiveness makes rage boil in Steve's gut.

“Did he...what did he do to you?” Tony's eyes snap to his, their gazes lock. It feels like they're trapped like that for hours, but it's only a moment before Tony is shaking his head, waving down the others who have stood from their seats. To do what, he doesn't know, but Steve gets the idea they're feeling a certain urge to find one Tiberius Stone and figure out what his insides look like. At least that's what Widow's expression says; because that's not Natasha's cold unyielding gaze.

Steve can relate.

“He didn't. No. It. Nothing _happened._ Business contracts, he wanted them, contracts Stark Industries had, technology we had too. Me being someone he wanted to fuck just made the deal sweeter.” Tony says it with such matter of factness that Steve feels his blood boil anew. “Probably, I don't know-Steve, ease up a little would you?”

“Aw hell Tony, sweetheart, I'm sorry.” Steve says, rage burning down into apology as Tony pulls his hand away and shakes his fingers out.

“Stop looking guilty oh Captain of my heart, I'm fine.” Tony mumbles, cheeks pinking when he realizes what he's said. “ _Anyway_ , we had a sort of friendly rivalry thing going on, or at least I _thought_ it was friendly. Turns out what I thought was all good competition was really the beginnings of an obsessive fixation.” Tony stops there, pushing his chair back from the table to pace across the floor, stopping when he reaches the bar to pour himself another finger of whiskey. He leans against the counter with affected casualness, but Steve knows him well enough now to understand what he's seeing. Tony is shaken. Shaken and deeply upset.

“Do you know why he would be targeting you now?” Natasha asks carefully, as though she's afraid Tony will spook, maybe go running off before telling them something important, but Tony just squares his shoulders, meeting her eyes dead on.

“He tried to kidnap me, a few months before you were found and it didn't turn out too well for him.”

“What.” Steve says softly, dangerously.

“He didn't _personally_ come by and try to throw me in a van, but I know he hired the guys that made the attempt. They didn't count on me knowing how to defend myself, or Iron Man being nearby for that matter. Thanks for the save by the way.” Tony says blithely, saluting JARVIS with his glass before continuing to speak before Steve can give voice to the anger bubbling up within himself. “Two weeks prior to the attempt he pulled me aside at a party, and let his freak flag fly so to speak. He uh..confessed to me, gave me a whole speech about how we could be powerful together. It was very super villain leaning, and I've never been attracted to Ty as it is, apparently he didn't get that memo.”

“What happened, how did he take that?” Clint asks, expression coloring with concern.

“Badly. That's putting it lightly. He doesn't _do_ rejection apparently.” Tony answers immediately, knocking his drink back and pouring himself another. “Ty's an arrogant bastard, makes me look practically demure by comparison-”

“You're not arrogant.” Steve mutters mulishly. Tony's hand pauses on its way to lifting the glass back to his mouth.

“Uh. Um.” He stutters. “Yes I am?” It's incredulous, a question and a statement all in one.

“You're not and I love you as you are.” Sure his cheeks are burning hot enough to start a bonfire, and sure he just said that in front of all their friends', but it's not as if it's a secret. Tony flushes so deeply it looks to go all the way down to his toes. He takes a long sip of his drink, then sets it down, refusing to meet Steve's gaze as he does.

“Well um. Well. I.” His mouth snaps shut when Steve stands, coming over to link their hands together. The rest of the Avengers are silent, but he hears Thor sigh somewhat dreamily and pointedly ignores it. If someone had told him he would meet the Norse god of thunder-and that said Norse god would end up being obsessed with romance novels he probably would have had a few choice words for them. He's seen Thor's library though, the man has enough material to fill a book store.

“He didn't try to hurt you did he?” Steve knows there are many forms of hurt, and despite Tony assuring them earlier that the Hulk has no cause to scramble one Tiberius Stone's brains into pudding, the look in Tony's eyes tells him Stone's antics were anything but painless for the man he loves.

“He wants the arc reactor, my tech, access to technology I discussed with him as a friend, he needs me alive and mostly unharmed. At least I think he does.” Tony sounds so certain, but Steve doesn't think it's entirely true.

“Can you still get in touch with him?” Natasha cuts in, startling them both. He had almost forgotten the rest of the team was still there.

“I have his phone number, and a slew of other contact information.”  Tony says, giving a short sharp nod.  Screens pop up with phone numbers and a few email addresses.  Steve files them away after reading each once.  It's always good to know how to potentially contact an enemy, even if Stone refuses to answer, it makes Steve feel better even if it doesn't tell them where the guy is.

“That's good, because he disappeared right around the incident with Hammer. Without him, we're out a huge puzzle piece.” Natasha is all business, but there's no hiding the pinched expression of concern turning her lips down. “Would he respond if you contacted him?” The question makes Steve's blood run cold.

“I could do you one better, use me as bait, I'll lure him to one of my test facilities, no big deal.” Tony shrugs. Steve feels his face twist right along with the yawning pit of terror opening up in his stomach.

“That's your plan?” Steve grits out. Tony tips his head back, jaw jutting stubbornly as he meets his gaze dead on.

“If he's missing and he's trying to find a way to my tech, the best way to deal with that, with the least possible collateral damage is to give him what he wants. Or to _pretend_ to give him what he's after.” Tony is right, and a trap is a sound solution, except for the fact that it's the absolute last plan Steve wants to see put into action.

“What if he has that thing with him Tony?” He says softly, rubbing his thumbs over the delicate latticework of veins along Tony's wrists. “Have you thought of that? Even in the armor, it nearly got to Iron Man, cut through the metal like a can opener.”

“I very much felt like a tin of sardines.” JARVIS adds helpfully from his spot near the table. Tony's eyes narrow.

“What about this, you contact him, and we run a trace, we go to him and take him out.”  Steve suggests, hoping against hope that Tony will take it as the reasonable suggestion it is.

“He'll be expecting that.” Tony murmurs, pulling a hand away from Steve's grip to rake it through his hair. “Ty isn't stupid, I would be sending all of you into a trap instead of leading _him_ into one.”

“So that's it, you're just going to dangle yourself out for him then.”  Steve can’t help his utter dissatisfaction with this plan from making itself known in his tone.

“If I was an Avenger it's what I would do, I can't risk all of you, not like that, we-you can't take him by surprise if he's already expecting it.” Around the room the others are shifting around uncomfortably. Steve wonders what his face must be doing, because Tony takes one look at him and his gaze darts away.

“We're Avengers Tony, walking into danger is what we do.” Steve can see his reasoning falling on deaf ears already.

“Not for me it's not, you don't walk into danger for me.” Tony's eyes are wide, there's an echo there of something else, in the way Tony is standing, in the fine tremors coursing through his body as he stands firm against all their concern.

“That's for me to decide, for us to decide, and what you're suggesting is suicide.” Steve tries to reign himself in, but his voice rises like the tide of helpless anger within him.

Tony flinches but presses on, cutting him off with a sharp shake of his head. “This isn't up to you, this is my monster, my problem Steve. Ty is targeting all of you, targeting everything because of me, because I have something he wants.”

“It cut through the armor like it was nothing Tony! Woulda killed Iron Man if we hadn't been there, what do you think it will do to you if it did that to Iron Man?” He knows he should calm down, but what Tony is suggesting makes a blind panic tear through him. There's absolutely no doubt in his mind that Tiberius Stone would not be above summoning that monster again. It's a chilling thought: Tony alone in a room with Tiberius Stone and a creature that even Thor finds intimidating. True the Avengers would be on standby, but who is to say the Níðhöggr needs more than a second to strike.

“That's why I have to lead him to me!” Tony cries, pulling his hands away to throw them up. His eyes are wet at the corners. “I'm his goal, and if you all get hurt protecting me then that's on me, it's on me and I can't-” Tony whispers, sagging against him when Steve pulls him close, cradles the back of his skull in one broad palm. “I can't ask all of you to fight a battle that's mine.”

“You need not ask us.” Thor says, walking over to clasp a hand on first Tony's, then Steve's shoulder. “We are Avengers, and you are just as much an Avenger as one of us. You protect many of us with your science, and we fight battles for those who are unable to do so, be they a shieldbrother or not. You are courageous Anthony, but I will gladly swing my hammer in your defense, and I do not believe myself to be alone in that sentiment.”

Tony lifts his head, seemingly gathering himself. “Thor, buddy-I..”

“Just think on it, you need not risk yourself needlessly when there are alternatives.” With that, Thor turns on his heel, nodding over to Natasha as he exits the room.

“Talk it over, let me know when we have a plan.” Natasha says, gesturing around the room pointedly. The space fills with the sound of shuffling feet and clothing as the rest of the team slips out. Natasha pauses just before leaving, fixing Tony with a sharp stare. “Thor is right you know, we'll fight for you, don't be an idiot.” She's gone after that, disappearing off on silent feet and leaving the room just as quiet in her wake.

“Dating me isn't easy, I'm well aware of that. God, I always fuck things up don't I?” Tony says after a long protracted silence, misery coloring the words with hollowness.

“We're not easy people to be with, doesn't change the fact that you're the best thing that ever happened to me. Sometimes I wonder why you said yes when I asked about courting you.” Steve speaks against Tony's cheek, dropping a kiss there before walking back over to his seat. He sinks into it heavily, swiveling to turn towards the room instead of the table. His legs feel like jelly after their argument. Steve has always been the kind of guy to pick a fight, but fighting with Tony just makes him feel like the lowest kind of jerk. Tony stares over at him, laughing to himself, short and sharp.

“Steve I don't know what you think, but being with you, loving you” He chokes on the tail end of the sentence. “that's the easiest thing I've ever done.”

“I'm not perfect Tony. I know what everyone says about me, but-I have nightmares, all the time. I wake up half convinced everything with you was just a dream. Some days the only thing that keeps me going is the thought of coming down into the kitchen and maybe seeing you there.” Steve folds his hands over his lap, leans over his knees, hunching in. Tony makes a small wounded sound, coming closer to lay a hand on his shoulder, and Steve winds him in, pressing his face against the warm silk wool waistcoat covering Tony's stomach. “I-I'm terrified of losing you, I don't know how I'd function without you.” He admits quietly. “I'm so sorry I shouted at you earlier.”

“Shh, Steve baby, it's okay-” Tony soothes, combing his fingers through Steve's hair, brushing his fingertips over his brows, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. It's such a gentle touch, so full of concern that Steve shuts his eyes tightly, clutching Tony as closely as he can.

“No it's not, how am I supposed to protect you if we can't even find the bastard that's after you?” He says, not bothering to hide the tremor in his voice.

“Iron Man will be there, you'll all be there if he bites. I can't put other people in danger by sending them to him when he will definitely be expecting it. That's just not acceptable to me. It's me he wants, and I don't think he really wants to hurt me, he needs me.”

Steve holds him tighter, bunching his hands in the soft fabric of his expensive suit jacket. “You don't know that. You don't know what he is or isn't willing to do. You're asking me to be alright with the idea of losing you, with the idea of you getting hurt when I could prevent it.”

“Steve, honey-” Tony sighs, pushing Steve back in his chair and clambering up onto his lap. His weight settles there, comforting and real, and Steve holds him, sweeping his fingertips over the back of his neck and up into the dark curling hairs at the nape of his neck. “I live here with you all. Everyone knows I make things for the Avengers, there's always been a target on my back. At this point it's not an 'if' I'll get hurt, it's a when, you can't put that much weight on my safety.” The matter of factness, the flippancy with which Tony discusses his own life makes the blood freeze in his veins just as surely as any icy water.

“That's not, I can't, you can't say that, you can't really believe that.” Steve feels like he's babbling. His hands are cold, the breath rushing from him as if Tony punched him in the solar plexus. “You can't, I can't, you're the only thing, the only one and I can't be-” He slips his hands around to cup Tony's face between his palms. “I can't be without you, I just, you can't ask me that.” Distantly he realizes he's crying, wet tear tracks slipping down his face, but it doesn't matter.

“Steve!” Tony grabs his shoulders, fingers digging into the sleek fabric. “Steve, breathe, breathe, I'm right here, I'm here with you. I'm oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't know you felt that way, Jesus, fuck.”

“Please don't do this.” Steve whispers wretchedly. He knows it's unfair, he knows that reigning Tony in-Iron Man in-is like catching a wave on the sand, but he's desperate. Panic twists his insides into knots, his breath heaves in his chest. Only Tony's soft comforting words in his ear, and the constant touch of his hands are able to finally bring him around from that all consuming terror.

“Love, Steve, beloved come on, you're okay, you're okay, breathe, we'll-I'll come up with a different plan okay, something better. Are you back with me?” Tony is practically curled around him. His suit jacket and waistcoat are discarded, the sleeves of his silk shirt rolled up to bare the toned muscles of his forearms. “Yeah, hi, welcome back babe.” Tony says so gently that Steve almost wants to weep.

“We're on the floor-how did we get on the floor?” Steve gasps out, leaning back against the wall to stare up into wide brown eyes. Tony traces his fingers over his lips, dipping his head to drop a kiss over the furrowed line of one blond brow.

“You um, kind of rolled out of the chair and then backed up into this corner. A self protective gesture probably, it was very speedy, you're very quick on your feet and I apparently weigh less than a bag of grapes to you so-” Tony smiles, gracing him with another little kiss. “here we are.”

“Oh.” Steve takes stock of their position, curled around each other in the east corner of the debriefing room, Steve's arms wrapped around Tony like protective bands. His face flames hot with shame, and he lets Tony go as if scalded, opening his mouth to apologize.

“Don't apologize.” Tony says, pressing his hand over Steve's mouth before he can even get a word out. “Don't. It's not your fault, it's **not** , don't make that face.”

Steve huffs, pressing a kiss against the palm covering his lips. Tony's eyes crinkle at the corners, but the look of deep worry is still there when he speaks again.

“There's someone I want you to talk to. Have you..have you talked to anyone about what you're feeling since you woke up?” Tony sounds vaguely horrified, the expression on his face growing to match the tone of his voice when Steve shakes his head.

“No, I just, I'm dealing with it.” Steve says quietly, slipping Tony's hand away from his mouth, but not before leaving another kiss there.

“I don't think you are Steve.” The words should hurt, but Tony says them so gently, with so much concern that Steve's throat clicks on a swallow.

“I'm fine, I can get past this.”  He knows it’s not the forties anymore-that people won’t look down at him for speaking with a therapist, but the forties weren’t that long ago for him.  It’s difficult to shake the notion that someone like him ought to lock everything up tighter than a bank vault.

“You don't have to fight this all on your own Steve. Baby. Look at me.” Steve looks up, lets Tony kiss him and press soft touches all over his face, lets that perfect affection loosen his grip around Tony's waist. “Anitha Acharya is a fantastic therapist, her specialty is loss, let her help you.”

“Does she help you?” He whispers, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

“She does, when I let her. I don't know if you know this but I can be a little-” Tony laughs. “guarded, it takes me a while to trust.”

“This is something I didn't know about you, I'm a little surprised, thought you were an open book.” Steve knows he still sounds shaky, but Tony doesn't comment on it, laughing instead and taking Steve by the shoulders to give him a very unimpressed look.

“Sass, Captain, I see how it is.” They're both silent for a time, Tony relaxing against him once more, laying his head on Steve's shoulder. His lashes tickle a bit against Steve's neck. Steve feels himself center, things clicking back into place as they always do when Tony is in his arms. He still feels shaky and off center, but it's fading, breaths coming easily now as Tony hums and kisses his neck lightly.

“Do you really think I need to go see a shrink?” Steve asks, watching the play of Tony's hair over the red of his gloves as he strokes through the inky black strands.

“It's not the forties anymore Steve, and anyway it's no one's business but yours if you need to find someone to talk to after all the shit you've survived. No one could possibly fault you for needing help, for _anyone_ needing help, and if anyone has anything to say about it they can come talk to me.” Tony is getting all worked up into a rant, Steve can hear it in his voice, feel it in the way his shoulders square. The little guy he used to be, and the scrappy bastard he _still_ is appreciates a kindred spirit when he see one.

“I'll go if you think it's a good idea, I trust your judgment sh-sweetheart” He corrects himself instantly, relief sweeping through him when Tony seemingly doesn't catch his telling slip of the tongue.

“I do. You can't make me your only anchor in this world Steve, okay, you just can't. I'm not worth that, and it's not healthy.”  Tony sounds as certain as he ever does when dismissing the value he has to Steve, has to everyone.  Steve frowns, squeezing lightly at the back of Tony's neck.

“You are worth that.” Steve grumbles stubbornly. “But I'll...I'll try. For you, anything.”

“Anything?” Tony asks, nuzzling Steve's jaw in an incredibly distracting way.

“Go on another date with me.” He blurts. Tony stills against him. “That is if you still want to, after. After this.”

“Of course I still want to date you Steve. You really have no idea, do you?” He says almost to himself, pushing up onto his knees to press careful but still toe curlingly delicious kisses to his lips.

“No idea about what?” He croaks, following Tony up when he rolls to his feet with one fluid motion.

“How much I want you, how much I want this.” Tony steps close again before he can respond, winding his arms around Steve's neck and pulling him down until their mouths meet again.

“Saturday, I want to take you to a museum. Do you like museums?” He says against Tony's lips.

“Why, you like to feel like you belong old man?” Tony asks, a broad cheeky smile dimpling his cheeks.

“You make me feel like I belong already.”  He says quietly, thumbing over Tony’s kiss swollen bottom lip, rubbing at it to watch the plush skin darken further, to feel Tony’s body lean into him more as if silently demanding more kisses.

“Oh I. Well.” Tony stammers, his cheeks flushing his olive skin a brilliant scarlet. “Then yes, museum sounds great, so great.”

“We still need a plan to catch that Stone asshole.” Steve grumbles, pulling Tony more tightly against his chest. Tony huffs out a strangled laugh, burying his fingers in the short blond hair at the nape of his neck.

“I'll have JARVIS run a facial recognition sweep to see if we can place his last whereabouts, and ping all his contact information first.  Any plan to draw him out is dependent on whether or not anyone can even get in touch with him. Let's start with that, I promise not to use myself as bait unless it's the only way.” Somehow that's not entirely comforting, but it's a far better compromise than Tony's initial plan.

“Okay.” He concedes. “Okay, but no crazy plans until we talk first.”

“Boy that's rich coming from mister, jump on the back of an inter-dimensional monster while sporting a broken arm.” Tony mutters.

“I'm sorry about ruining that suit.” He says unapologetically.  Tony's eyes narrow into a glare.

“You should be sorry about almost giving Iron Man a heart attack, he was really worried. I was too, I saw the scans of your arm while repairing the suit.” Tony prods a finger against the white star covering Steve's chest for emphasis. “No pain medications are efficacious with your metabolic rate and general cellular stubbornness.  It would figure, even your _cells_ are pigheaded and uncooperative.”  There's no real heat in the words, just that same concern that colored Iron Man's speech that day in the mountains.

“Aw sweetheart, don't start with that again.”  Steve sighs, squeezing his arms around Tony snugly.  

“Steven.” Tony says gravely. “I never stopped.”

“There's really nothing for it, you shouldn't worry about it.” Maybe he should be more concerned, but it's the price he pays for being who he is. There are worse things.

“Um. Excuse me? Of **course** I'm going to worry about it. You're out there, running around getting shot at by lasers and _magic-_ ” The way he says magic is something akin to the tone of voice his mother had once taken when a neighborhood cat left a dead rat on the stoop of the building they lived in.

“Do you think Doctor Strange knows anything about force fields?” He muses, trying and failing to keep the innocent expression on his face when Tony starts sputtering.

“I'm not going to Strange, he'll probably suggest a naked moonlight ritual or something.” Tony pauses, expression brightening. “Actually, you know what, I feel a kind of kinship with him, maybe he's onto something, and he _does_ have great taste in facial hair.” Only Steve's arms around him keep Tony from wandering out of the room. Steve snorts, lifting him up so his feet dangle; getting a very gentle kick to the shin for his efforts.

“Don't go ask Stephen Strange to strip me naked with magic.” Steve tries to make himself sound as commanding as possible. Tony's glance darts to the side, and he bites his bottom lip.

“Not even a teensy bit naked?” The little moue of pouty sorrow almost makes Steve reconsider, but he kisses Tony instead. Tony allows the kissing for a time, but soon pulls back to look over his face searchingly.

“I really do want to find a way to help you with that though Steve. That's a huge problem with the serum.” Tony squirms out of his arms, taking Steve's arm by the wrist to tug him from the room and down the hall towards the elevator.

“Where are we going?” He asks, following behind Tony without resistance anyway. Tony shoots him a glance over his shoulder, stopping by the elevator and waving his hand in front of the command panel to summon it down to the underground meeting and training areas.

“First we're going to go eat, because you haven't eaten in hours and you have the metabolism of a bird. Also Bruce is making mie goreng and I would fucking kill for those noodles.” Tony's love of all kinds of pasta is well known, Steve files away the name of the dish to look up later. Maybe he can attempt making it for Tony some other time.

“And after that?”

“After that we're going to drag Doctor Banner and his brain down into my lab to talk about coming up with a pain medication that could affect you, mister muscle.” Tony drags him into the elevator when it arrives, squeezing both hands around his biceps as if to illustrate his point.

“Thought Thor was mister muscle.”  Steve feigns ignorance well, but Tony just snorts.  

“No, Thor is Mighty Muscle Man, also Sparky, I thought we discussed this.” Steve knows Tony well enough to know he’s not really miffed, but the man is an excellent actor at times.  Secret identity notwithstanding.

“Got so many nicknames for us it's hard to keep track.” Steve shoots back, grinning when Tony grabs his ears and gives him a playful shake.

“Well then you're slacking, you should just come up with names for me in retaliation.”  Tony's eyes glitter with mirth, and just a little bit of challenge.  Steve's never been one to back down, and today is no different.  

“Sweetheart” He says, kissing Tony's cheek. “Apple pie, sugar.” He continues, smiling wide when Tony's face reddens.

“Oh my god Steve, really?”  Tony says incredulously, but he sounds a little breathless too.

“Beautiful, gorgeous, hmm, mister big brain.” Steve laughs as the elevator dings and Tony pushes him through the doors into the hallway.  

“Out, get out, I've had enough of you Captain Sassypants.” For all he sounds affronted, his face is still endearingly flushed. Steve winds him in close again, cooing endearments to him in French, making them as sweet and saccharine as possible. Tony grows redder and redder until they reach the kitchen and he scampers away to perch on the counter next to Bruce.

“Don't steal my vegetables.” Bruce says mildly, eyeing Tony's hand creeping towards a plate of raw sliced produce.

“Noted. Come down to the lab later and help me develop something to get Steve high? Please.” The big pleading eyes are killer, it seems even Bruce isn't immune. Their resident gamma expert just slumps, shaking his head and smiling at Tony with surprising indulgence.

“Sure why not, let's science. But first food.” For such an unassuming man, Bruce can be shockingly commanding. Tony seems unaffected however, hopping off the counter to press a smacking kiss to the side of Bruce's face.

“Thank you green bean, you warm the cockles of my heart.” Mission accomplished he comes sauntering back into Steve's space.

“Thank you Doctor Banner, and thank you cupcake, I appreciate the effort.”

“Hey, why am I cupcake? What about my doctorates, emphasis on the 's'? As in I have several, I'm being insulted, betrayed.” Tony sputters, ignoring Bruce's delighted laughter. He still lets Steve hug him close, and later he doesn't protest when Steve holds his hand under the table, so he counts it as a win.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week passes slowly, Tony leaves for a symposium on technology in Cairo and has to reschedule their date for the following Saturday. The other Avengers accuse him of moping, but Steve knows Tony is an incredibly busy man. He still misses him though. No word of Tiberius Stone arrives, and a part of Steve is relieved, another part is even more concerned. With neither hide nor hair of the man turning up it's impossible to know what he's planning, and how to prepare for that plan. It leaves Steve unsettled and agitated, especially with Tony gone and away from the team.  Sure, Iron Man is with him, but that's not really as comforting as it could be, given well, everything.

On Monday Steve goes to see the the psychologist Tony suggested.  She is not anything like what he expected. The last time Steve read up on psychology it wasn't nearly as good. Doctor Acharya is warm, welcoming, and even if she doesn't quite understand everything he's telling her, because there's no frame of reference for what Steve has lost; she tries. It's nice to just speak what's on his mind. It's still incredibly difficult. Old habits die hard, and Steve grew up being taught to bottle everything up except for his anger. He's trying though, and it's worth it when he talks to Tony over the phone, and Tony praises him for even making the attempt. Speaking to Tony is not the same as having him close by however.

He's somewhat mollified by the pictures Happy sends him of Tony passed out in his hotel bed clutching his banana plush close. He blinks down at it, realizing Tony has created a little Captain America cowl and a soft plush shield for the thing. In the pictures he looks soft and sleep warm, using Steve's gift to him as a neck pillow in some, cuddling it in others. Steve traces over the lines of his face and feels a welter of fondness and love so strong it's almost dizzying.  He’s also embarrassingly jealous of his felt banana counterpart, it’s silly, but Steve would love to be in that ridiculous plush’s place; curled up with Tony surrounded by down comforters.

When Tony returns from Cairo all abuzz with excitement, eyes bright and dancing with joy, Steve comes charging down into the foyer to spin him into a tight hug, burying his nose in the spicy clean scent of Tony's hair. Tony drops his carry on bag, laughing delightedly and kissing Steve fast and fleeting, darting in like a hummingbird as they twirl across the floor. Happy is standing in the open door. He gives Steve a small salute before grabbing up all of Tony's luggage and carrying it off to his room.

“Hi.” Tony says, eyes crinkling with a wide smile.

“Hi.” Steve repeats, holding Tony up with one hand and cupping Tony's cheek with the other. “I missed you, welcome back. See anything keen at the symposium?”

“Yes, so many _neato keen_ things Steve. There was a girl there, she was, god, she was just brilliant Steve. Couldn't have been more than sixteen, but her **brain.** Magic. No scratch that, not magic, but just as astounding, the future, she's the future.”  Tony is doing that thing he does sometimes, where his brain is moving so quickly that he seems to buzz with energy.  His eyes are bright, belying the mind behind them working away feverishly.

“Did you catch her name, who was she?”  Steve asks, ready and willing to be swept into Tony’s enthusiasm as he ever is.

“She told me her name is Shuri, wouldn't give me a last name. She said if her name ended up on a research paper her big brother would have kittens. She seemed to think that was hilarious though. Anyway, she's Wakandan and she helped me come up with _this-_ ” Tony whips his phone out of his pocket, gesturing to it, blowing holograms up all over the room where they scroll with countless lines of glowing code.

“This is-” Steve's eyes widen when he realizes what he's looking at. He doesn't understand it, but he's seen Tony working on it, agonizing over it enough to appreciate the importance of what he's seeing. “The equation, that code you've been working on isn't it?”

“Yes, the key to helping millions of people around the world. These are the adjustments I needed to make it viable for mass use. I had been looking at it all wrong, like machinery, circuitry, seeing biology as something to overcome instead of something to work with, go figure. I still have my original work, but it's a bit too...extreme for the public.” Tony finishes, the little twinkle in his eye glimmering there as if with some closely held private joke. Steve has never seen Tony look quite this excited. It's jaw dropping. He's so beautiful, so wonderful that Steve can't help but kiss all over his face. Can't help but tell him how amazing and inspiring of a man he is.

“You gonna put her name on the research anyway?” He asks knowingly, when they've wandered down into Tony's lab again. Tony should be jet lagged and exhausted, but that seems to be the opposite of the case.

“She gave me a pseudonym, and I'm not one to take credit where it's not due. She'll be credited first, it's her work that secured this breakthrough. She has all my contact information, and an open invitation to S.I. and all my labs. Although there won't be any profit for this. Any and all people benefiting from this research will receive it free of charge.” Tony says, sitting down on one of his chairs and setting about clearing off his work station.  You rolls over, resting his claw on the table and beeping away. "Yes hello kiddo, I missed you too, where's your brother?"  Tony pats You as he flings plans around, directing him to find Dummy and help with the cleanup. Steve watches the two robots bobbing and picking up cups, and remembers the water treatment plants, the mobility aids Tony was working on not so long ago.

“Gonna make a lot of people who make a lot of money off this kind of thing real angry.” Steve loves to make assholes angry, Tony seems to be much the same.

“Let them be mad, survival shouldn't be a commodity, there's plenty of other things to make profits off of, they can just suck it up.” Tony says, steel in his gaze despite the soft smile he shoots Steve when he rolls over in a chair and pulls Tony's legs up into his lap to knead at the tight muscles of his calves.

“Tense.” Steve observes, digging his thumbs in and nearly twitching when Tony lets out a long drawn out groan, slumping back in his chair bonelessly.

“Okay.” Tony says. “I can take a break for a moment.”

“Still on for that date tomorrow?” He asks, pressing the heel of his palm into the arch of Tony's foot with one hand, and holding his ankle with the other.

“Oh yes, definitely, so on, wow, **so**  very, very on, that feels so good.” Tony all but moans. Steve wonders somewhat distantly if Tony is this vocal in bed, and then hastily pushes that thought aside. This is neither the time nor the place for those kind of thoughts.

That doesn't stop him from thinking about it later when he's laying in his bed alone. The thought of Tony making those sounds while laying beneath him, or above him leaves him a sweaty, panting, frustrated mess atop his sheets with a hand guiltily down his pants.  Steve blows out a heaving breath as his body unhelpfully refuses to relax.  Well, he didn't have anything to do tonight anyway, he supposes.

 

* * *

 

Saturday turns out to be an exercise in frustration. Their date starts out well enough. Tony is gorgeous in a deep blue suit, having just come back from an obscenely early meeting with the board. He tucks a single red rose behind Steve's ear when he leans up to kiss him in greeting. Steve is so charmed and besotted he almost forgets to give Tony his own gift; a bouquet of Ambrosia and Alstroemeria flowers in bright vibrant colors. He can hear his own heart pounding away as Tony holds the blooms and looks up at him as if they could skip the date and crawl into bed together instead. He doesn't make the offer though, instead seeking out a vase so they won't wilt.  After that he drives them to the museum in a sleek silver Audi with enough rumbling bass to impress the most finicky of car enthusiasts.  Sitting next to him in the car, watching the city go by, Steve is struck by the urge to paint him yet again.  

The MOMA is just as amazing as Steve remembers. Tony is surprisingly knowledgeable about art. A fact he explains away by saying Pepper is the one who really enjoys art, but Steve knows a critical eye when he sees one. Tony talks about brush strokes and composition as readily as any art critic. He shies away from rooms with large crowds of people in them, until they end up at an installation that is empty at the moment. Light dances through colorful hanging glass beads, painting Tony in a dappled glow, bright across his features like radiant glowing splashes of translucent paint.

It seems only logical to kiss him then. Tony sighs against his lips, welcoming him as if he's been waiting. He traces his tongue over the seam of Tony's mouth, shivering when it opens easily for him. Tony presses closer, bunching his hands in the fabric of Steve's shirt, then slipping them around his waist to spread his palms over the dip in his spine. It's a sweet kiss, but still lights a fire in Steve's blood. Something slow and simmering like embers twists through him when he gently tugs Tony's bottom lip between his teeth, and dark eyes slit open halfway to fix him with a hot expectant stare.

“Steve.” Tony whispers, leaning up again. Steve cradles the back of his head in one palm, bending slightly to press another kiss against Tony's upturned mouth. He closes his eyes, but the brilliant after images the installation leaves are still there, flashing behind his lids in bright starbursts of color almost as vibrant as the feeling of Tony warm and wanting against him.

In the back pocket of his pants, the loud chirp of his Avengers communicator sends echoing ricochets of sound through the room.

“Goddammit to hell.” Steve growls. Tony laughs disbelievingly, touching the side of Steve's face with one hand.

“Blasphemy, how scandalous.” He gamely kisses Steve goodbye however, waving him off with only minor grumbling at the inconvenience.

Steve hopes whatever villain is at the root of this has something to say for themselves.

 

* * *

 

The villain is a joke. It would be funny if it wasn't so infuriatingly frustrating. Iron Man is standing just off to the side of Steve in the middle of the street. Up high in a building Clint is doing a startlingly obnoxious impression of Woody the Woodpecker. It would be disturbing, but given the looks of their current ne'er do well-it's appropriate.

“I can't even believe a guy in a Turkey suit interrupted my Saturday manicure.” Iron Man grouches over the comms.

“Can it tin man, you can get your cuticles all pretty later.” Carol says, but she's grinning wide.

“It's not a Turkey!” Villain of the week all but screeches. He's cuffed on the ground looking like nothing more than a giant plucked chicken, or maybe a woodpecker. It doesn't really matter, it's so ridiculous that it's all Steve can do to keep his Captain persona in place.

“Where you're going, no one's going to know or care which particular species you're going for. So you may as well save that egg-stravagent complaining for later.” Jan says with the air of someone making a royal proclamation. Iron man makes a sort of mechanical groaning sound, head snapping to where Wasp is fluttering around and looking all too gleeful for having made such a horrible pun.

Steve is still thrumming with his post battle high, the fight had been over pitiable quickly. Turkey boy -or whatever his name was-had gone down like a wet sack of feathers after one punch from Captain Marvel.

In other circumstances Steve would almost feel bad for the idiot but he had plans for today. He had been looking forward to spending more time with Tony at the MOMA, or really anywhere-and had instead gotten called out for this: Some guy in a feather suit causing mayhem in times square. Despite Iron Man being right there, this isn't the way he was hoping their date would go. Steve thinks the city is getting a little too comfortable with calling them for things local law enforcement could probably handle.

“Hey Winghead, when you get back to the mansion Stark wants to see you. He said something about showing you a prototype. Wants your input.” Iron man shrugs, repulsored palms up to the sky.

“Ooh I just bet he does.” Clint coos.

“Shut it Tweety, you're just jealous you don't get to run your grubby little talons all over Stark's proprietary tech before anyone else does.” Iron Man says, examining his armored fingers with a sniff of mock derision. Hawkeye's face pops into view above a building just to the left of them. He extends one finger in a rude gesture and blows a raspberry at the team below him.

“Bitter, so bitter.” Widow's voice is amused, Steve has no idea where she is, but that's not entirely out of the ordinary. Then Thor seemingly materializes from inside a shop, interrupting them all.

“Is that Froyo?” Iron man points. Thor grins benevolently, raising a spoon from the giant tub of dessert and taking a truly impressive bite.

"It is a fine food my friend, I would offer you some but I am afraid your faceplate defeats me on this day."  Thor says solemnly, the effect is ruined however when he spoons another massive bite of the sweet into his mouth.

The loud blaring of sirens announces the arrival of the police as they all watch Thor consume a tub of dessert almost as big as his head. Steve snorts. It looks like their villain of the week doesn't even rate a SHIELD escort. He'd like to have a word with said police concerning calling them out for ridiculous things, but that's time he would rather spend with Tony. As if in answer to that thought Iron man takes off just as they cart the still struggling and shrieking nuisance into a waiting squad car. If Steve hopes they jostle the guy just a little, well, that's no one's business but his. High in the sky the red and gold armor gleams before disappearing from sight like a comet in a bid against gravity.

“C'mon guys, let's get back, Cap has a date.” Jan's voice disrupts his train of thought. Steve's ears pink slightly, but they're beneath he cowl, no one will ever be the wiser. He clips the shield across his back before piling into the quinjet with the rest of the non-fliers.

“Yeah, I sure do.” Maybe he sounds like a lovesick idiot all the time now, but Tony seems to like him anyway. Widow smiles over at him from her spot at the controls. Her real smiles are rare things, precious like gems. He thinks sometimes the team are the only ones she ever allows herself to be soft with. His team is safe and alive, bickering back and forth. Steve smiles to himself and lets his mind wander. Clint starts singing just as they make it back to the mansion, and the sounds of the rest of the team joining in follow Steve as he disembarks to make his way down to Tony's workshop.

It doesn't take long to make it there. Steve gets momentarily sidetracked by a magazine left laying around. Tony is on the cover. His camera ready smile is on, but his eyes are guarded. The article is an interesting one though, and never let it be said that Tony Stark gives a boring interview.

He passes Iron Man in the hall on his way down, greeting him warmly and getting a wave and a polite 'Captain' in return. The suit is empty, Steve already knows. The others may be fooled, but super-hearing picks up the subtle hum of hollowness vibrating through the armor when its pilot is not in it.

Deep down Steve knows that loving Tony with everything he has might not be the best idea. If Tony is who he thinks he is; who he _knows_ he is. Their lives are dangerous, some villain might pop up to steal Tony away from him. It would kill him to lose Tony. Steve has given up a lot in this world. He woke up on what seemed like an alien planet after having lost seventy years, but there are some things he can't even think about without having to go down and destroy a punching bag or ten.

Loss is something he knows intimately. Losing Tony is not an option though, he can't accept it. Despite the work Doctor Acharya has begun putting in, it's still far, far too soon, his mind shies away from even contemplating a reality without Tony. He would do anything to keep Tony at his side, now if only he could get Tony to believe that. Loving Tony Stark is absolutely a bad idea, but then again letting the government inject you with experimental super steroids probably wasn't the best decision either. Steve is not one to shy away from taking risks. The fact that Tony loves him back is more than he thought to dream of. They haven't spoken of it much since their mutual heated confessions in that unused SHIELD room, and later during that terrible debrief about Stone-but the awareness of it simmers between them with every look, every bit of contact no matter how minimal.

Steve hopes he's right about Tony being Iron Man as much as he wants to be wrong. If he's right, and he's all but one hundred percent certain he is; then Tony is constantly putting himself in danger. His fella has a heart condition, it's common knowledge-and even though Steve can't really hear his heart, he _can_ hear Tony's breathing. Healthy lungs don't sound like that. Still, Steve knows what it's like to be underestimated, to be sidelined. If Tony ever does come out and tell the team no one will deny him spot, he's earned it a thousand times over. Steve will make sure of that even if he has to give a few stern talking to's.

Moving through the mansion is second nature now, there's no need to look up. He's so engrossed in the article that he almost drops the magazine when JARVIS welcomes him into the workshop. Glass doors slide open with a soft whoosh of cool air. Steve _does_ drop the magazine once he steps inside and gets a good look at Tony.

Blue holo-screens dance around the room, casting the whole space in an almost underwater light. In the center of it all, Tony stands with his back to the door. What is he _wearing_? Skintight black fabric clings to Tony's body like a second skin. Little nodes of light dance and blink over the whole thing. Beautiful, he's so beautiful. Steve is struck with the sudden burning desire to march over there, pick Tony up, and bite his thighs. It's a visceral reaction, arousal hitting him like a virtual punch to the gut.

“Hi Steve.” Tony's greeting shakes him out of his reverie, and he somewhat guiltily drags his eyes away from where they had fixed on Tony's behind.

“Uh-” Steve manages, stepping a little closer, afraid that if he moves too fast this will all prove to be some kind of dream.

“Iron man passed my message along I see. What do you think?” Tony turns, and Steve just watches him-utterly dumbstruck. There's an arc reactor, just like the one in the iron man suit. It sits nestled against a sort of slim chest plating. The glow of it is beautiful, but it makes Steve a little nervous to think of something like that sitting right on top of the pacemaker Tony keeps so fastidiously hidden. Still, the image it presents is _arresting._

“It's powered by its own Arc Reactor, bulletproof, friction dampening, and able to survive various temperature extremes. Best of all it's nice and stretchy, I could make these for anyone on the team and have it fit.” Tony pauses, scrawling math across one of the floating screens. “Well, it probably wouldn't fit our lean green angry bean, but most everyone else should be covered.” Tony says idly, the suit moving as he shifts, and the motion makes Steve want that body under his hands. Steve _stares_.

“It's incredible.” He blurts. Tony's eyes snap over to him-equation forgotten from the moment.

“Yeah? You like it?” Tony's arms drop to his sides when Steve gets right up in his space. He tilts his head back slightly, and it strikes Steve with absolute surety that it would only take one word of disapproval for tony to fold up like a house of cards. Tony always looks at him as if his opinion _matters_ as if the word of a man out of his time could really mean the world to someone responsible for some of the greatest technological advances of the last century. Steve _wants._

“God, Tony, do you even know what you do to me?” Steve grits out, arousal palpable in every word, and Tony's eyes go dark and hot as his words register.

“Oh _Captain,_ why don't you show me.” They meet in the middle like a wave crashing. Mouths pressing together with such hunger that Steve feels the elevator drop of arousal like a crack of lightening. He grabs at Tony, one hand going to his hip and the other cradling the back of his head, leaning him back so that all of his weight rests in Steve's arms. Tony's arms are around his neck, letting Steve take all his weight as if it's nothing. It's like the kiss in the museum, but without the threat of discovery it's as if a dam has been broken.

 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/138450344@N04/42203778221/in/dateposted-public/)

 

“Fuck, you're so strong-” Tony groans against his mouth, and then they're kissing again. Tony bites his bottom lip, then trails a path of kisses over his jaw to suck a mark just under one of his ears. Sharp points of his teeth making his awareness buzz with heat. It catches him off guard, grip tightening on Tony's hip as he hisses out a moan. Tony's head tips back, mouth falling open in a high sound of hungry desperation that makes Steve harder if that's even possible. ''Fuck-” Tony repeats, eyes opening to stare up at Steve dazedly. Steve starts- realizing how tight his grip on Tony's hip must be. His hand loosens, rubbing soothingly over the spot he's surely bruised, and Tony gives a full body shiver, head going to the side to press into his other hand.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to..that must hurt.” But Tony doesn't look like he's hurting at all.

“Yeah.” He pants, breaths coming in little hitching gasps. “You ever heard the expression 'hurts so good?' Steve, because it _does._ ”

Steve closes his eyes for a moment. A large and very insistent part of him wants desperately to give in to what Tony's offering and just _take-_ take until they're both sweaty and panting on the floor. But he has a _plan_ even if that plan is frustrating him to the ends of the Earth right this moment.

“Tony...you like-that?” Steve pants out. Wide dilated eyes meet his when Steve brings his hand away from Tony's hip to stroke over one flushed cheek.

“Oh Steve, you have _no_ idea.” The words are a low purr. Tony's eyes have gone half lidded as he presses kisses to Steve's gloved fingertips. Something hot and heady goes through his body when Tony's teeth close around the fabric of his glove and give it a tug. _There was a plan._ Steve thinks with resignation. They were going to go on another date. His glove is fully off now, dropped carelessly to the floor. Low heated words breathed across his skin make goosebumps break out all over when Steve registers what's being said.

“Want your hands all over me, god your fingers are just-” Tony cuts himself off, opening his mouth and _sucking_ three of Steve's fingers into that wet warmth. Steve groans despite himself, pushing his fingers deeper and watching Tony's jaw work to accommodate them. It's worth it to hear a harsh moan tear from his throat, and to feel Tony's body arch against his before going utterly lax.  So lax in fact that Steve loses his hold, but that seems to have been Tony's goal. Glittering brown eyes flick up to his and then Tony is on his knees on the floor, pressing his cheek against the front of Steve's tactical pants. It's a sight that will stay with him for years, and it's enough to make him moan helplessly.

“Tony, oh god..you-” His words cut off into a low growl when Tony very deliberately presses his cheek against the hard line of his cock, then darts his tongue out to lick a slow torturous line across the fabric covering him. These pants are designed to be pretty much everything proof-by Tony himself no less-but that does nothing to stop the visual, nor the pressure of Tony's perfect mouth.

“Oh God..” He repeats, trying to remember what that plan was again.

Tony's gaze flicks upwards as he drags his lips, then his tongue over his covered cock again, before pausing to _nuzzle_ him there. Steve's mind fuzzes out unable to comprehend just how arousing all of this is. He strips off his other glove, hand going down to stroke through dark curling strands, tugging gently to hear Tony gasp. No one has ever done anything remotely like this to him before. He's not a virgin, but this, this is something _else_.

“Steve, wanna suck you, can I? You can do anything, fuck my throat-come in my mouth, it'll be fucking _incredible_ .” Tony says, as if somehow getting Steve's dick in his mouth is a gift to _him_ and not the other way around. Steve shuts his eyes tightly.

He wants, _god_ does he want, but that's not how he wants this to happen. Tony's used to people ready and willing to use him. Steve doesn't want Tony to ever feel used, not unless he wants to be. Maybe Tony will think Steve's old fashioned at heart, he wants their first time together to be planned-wants to make sure Tony knows he won't just leave after-that he's not after the things Hammer spat at him back at SHIELD headquarters. There's a lot of stuff out there on the internet. Nasty things printed up about Tony pop up all the time. Old pictures of him with a woman or a man on each arm and a drink in each hand. They belittle his genius, make light of his struggles, but Steve knows a performance when he sees one, and Steve wants _all_ of Tony, not just what he thinks is pretty enough for Steve to see.

So he gathers all his self control and pulls Tony to his feet.

“I told you I wanted to take care of you Tony, when I'm done doing that then maybe.” Steve is proud of how steady his voice is despite everything. The shock on Tony's face is worth it when he picks him up and starts walking towards a tall metal table just at the perfect height to be hip level.

“Fuck, okay, whatever you want, anything, you can have it.” Tony cuts himself off, winding his legs around Steve's waist and pulling him into a kiss so scorching hot that Steve nearly stumbles. Tony's hands clutch at his shoulders, deftly unclipping the shield and letting it clang onto the ground when he's lowered onto the cool surface of the table, but he doesn't pause in kissing Steve for even a second.  Distantly he registers the shield rolling off to hit the wall, but it's not important.  Not with Tony kissing him like  _that._

Eventually they do part for air. Tony sucks in long pulls of oxygen, head falling back against the table with a moan when Steve leans down to bite a mark into a very visible part of Tony's neck, somewhere even his fancy dress shirts won't hide. Tony seems to understand what he's doing, and he goes absolutely crazy for it, arching against Steve and begging for more, nails catching and scratching on his clothed back.

“Be still, c'mon, be good for me.” He growls against the smooth skin of Tony's neck. Tony screws his eyes shut, his legs fall open and loose from around Steve's waist. Smooth fabric slides across metal as Tony sets his heels on the table and spreads his thighs so their hips are pressed flush together. Hazy brown eyes slit open, irises just barely visible through a crescent of thick dark lashes.

“I'm being _so_ good, you don't even know.” Tony grinds out, emphasizing the last word by reaching down to get a double handful of Steve's ass and using that as leverage to grind against him. It punches a loud moan from his throat. _Oh god, stick to the plan_. The hard throb of his cock disagrees with this notion, but he's never been one to think with his little head. Tony might just be testing that particular theory. Steve groans, hands snapping out to grip Tony's flexing thighs in order to still his nearly frantic movements; fingers inadvertently digging bruises into the firm muscle there.

“Oh...oh _yes_ .” Tony's moan is _obscene_ , as is the arch of his spine, the line of his throat, and the bitten redness of his kiss swollen mouth. The light of the arc paints him in blues, reflects off his eyes, catches on the angular highlights of his face. Steve has never seen anyone still clothed look this debauched, he's also never wanted anyone this badly.

Tony attempts to move, but Steve just holds him still, watching with rapt attention as Tony chews his lower lip in frustration and whines. When he finally stills, Steve leans over him again, drawing him into long searching kisses that make them both gasp and pant into each others' mouths. For a moment he thinks Tony is going to ask for more again, but he seems content to kiss and be kissed for the time being. They're both still hopelessly aroused-This pair of briefs he's wearing are going to either be tossed or need a thorough washing-but the desire to come has faded to a bearable awareness instead of an all consuming need.

“Our date got interrupted.” Tony murmurs against his lips after an indeterminate amount of time. It's the first time Tony has brought up their dates without being prompted first, and Steve feels a hot burst of joy unfurl in his chest.

“It did, you wanna pick up where we left off?” Steve asks, and Tony just smiles, scratching short nails over Steve's scalp and laughing when he tells him he's not to stop under any circumstances.

“Mmm, yeah. Take me on a date Captain Handsome.” Tony says almost dreamily. Steve grins. Then blinks.

“Can we shower first, I uh-” The flush working over his face is hot and obvious but they're both in the same straits, so it could be far more embarrassing. Tony nods vigorously in understanding, hissing quietly when Steve lets go of his legs and helps him off the table.

“Do not. Do not angst about the bruises okay.” He says when he notices Steve staring down at the spot where bruises in the shape of his fingers must be slowly blooming now beneath tight black fabric.

“I uh...wasn't? You like them right.” Steve's probably red to his very toes, but he could not possibly care less when Tony's eyes meet his and a sly smile pulls across his lips. That's answer enough. This date will probably be the death of him, but he couldn't be happier.  He just hopes that Tony likes what he has in mind.  It's a risky thing, the plan he came up with late one night during the week Tony was off in Cairo.  Steve thinks of the red silk pouch in his bedside dresser and swallows heavily. 

He's always been too stubborn to back down, and he doesn't plan on starting today.  "I could use some of that old Irish luck 'ma, if you can hear me."  He says to himself once he's retrieved the shield and is safely ensconced in his bathroom.  "Or your charm Buck, maybe a little bit of both if you're feeling generous."  Somewhere he can picture one James Buchanan Barnes having a good hearty laugh at his expense.  Steve smiles despite himself.  What does Iron Man like to say sometimes?  Go big or go home.  

Yeah, that sounds about right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower meanings:
> 
> A single red rose-promises life long devotion and love. The red rose speaks of a love that is unchanging and does not wither away. 
> 
> Alstroemeria-Devotion, aspiration.
> 
> Ambrosia- The love given is reciprocated.


	12. Jonquil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some warnings here for:  
> -Sexual content----that's right, the fic finally starts to earn its rating. Discussions of a bondage nature as well although there isn't any in this chapter, but it is discussed.  
> -Tony has some very unkind thoughts about his own mental health, so as always look out for that if self blame and self hate are triggers for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AT LAAAAST the chapter is out! Thank you to all of you for being so patient, and to everyone on discord (Ana, Palindrome, Aeniala, Seti, Rowantree, Bee your patience is mind boggling as always)

* * *

 

They meet up a short time later down in the garage. Tony feels like he might be losing his mind. He's never come across anyone even remotely like Steve Rogers. The man said no to a Tony Stark blowjob because he wants to go on a _date_ instead. It's not even their _first_ date. Most people would have jumped on what he was offering without a second thought. He guesses that's his problem. Steve's not like anyone else. It's as confusing as it is the sweetest thing anyone has ever offered him.

“Different parameters, throw out the whole framework.” He mutters to himself. Tony has been with a lot of people, but he's never been with someone who wants something like this. Giving lavish gifts and taking his lovers out to expensive restaurants is expected. That Steve wants to show Tony around and treat him like he's _special_ -well, it makes a strange sort of longing well up in his chest. Strange because it seems as if he's gotten everything he's ever wanted, but Tony has never been one to accept things as they are at face value. He keeps expecting for Steve to be like the others, for him to want something, or to not be as good a man as he has always had the reputation for being; but Steve keeps proving him wrong with every action, with every demonstration of how much he means it when he says _love_.

Tony would be more worried about it if he wasn't so goddamn happy. Rhodey is probably going to name his first kid after Steve in honor of all this. In all honesty it's not that Tony dislikes the thought of someone clearly wanting to cherish him. It just makes him nervous. What if he reads something he don't like? What if Steve figures out the truth about Tony: That he's fucked up and tainted, and undeserving of someone like him, that he's hiding more secrets than a SHIELD dossier. And that's the kicker isn't it? Tony is _lying_ to Steve. A lie by omission, but it's still no less a falsehood than if he tried to convince him the sky is red instead of blue. He's come so close to telling Steve the truth so many times already, but he's terrified, and he's always been a selfish thing when he loves. He doesn't want to lose Steve, and there is no doubt in his mind that Steve would be less than thrilled if he found out his pal Iron Man was also Tony Stark. No one wants Iron Man to be Tony Stark, no matter what Natasha seems to think.

He knows of course that Steve is not perfect-the man lost seventy years, he has demons of his own-but Steve is just so _good_. How does someone like him deserve all of that? Genius apparently means nothing when faced with that sort of rhetorical question. That doesn't change the fact that until Steve wise's up, Tony is going to cling to the love thrown his way like the affection starved creature he is. He stows those thoughts however, pushes them aside upon noticing Happy watching him with something that looks like concern.

“Hey boss, where are we goin?” Happy pipes up from where he's leaning against one of Tony's more understated cars. A sleek black Jag with an extended wheelbase that Steve has ogled on more than one occasion.

“I'm just along for the ride today, ask Cap when he gets here.”

Happy grins knowingly, and Tony pointedly does not make eye contact, choosing instead to fiddle with his watch.  The armor bracelets sit cool and comforting around his wrists, Iron man will shadow them from high above. Never let it be said that he and paranoia don't go hand in hand. He's paid for trusting the stars to align before. Never again. That he's even letting Happy drive is a huge concession. Last time someone else was in the driver's seat-Tony shakes himself from the thought. He's not going there tonight.

“Boss, it's gonna be okay.” Happy says, worry evident in his tone.  Tony's eyes snap up, hands reflexively going into his pockets to hide the minute tremors that always give him away.

“Of course it is Hap, why wouldn't it be?” If the twist of his smile is slightly bitter, Happy doesn't comment on it.

Steve comes down into the garage at a light jog, eyes practically lighting up when he spots Tony over by the Jag. Tony blinks, then blinks again. Steve is poured into a pair of dark wash jeans and a long sleeved blue shirt so tight it looks like a good flex would make it fly right off.

“Happy I'm sweating, do I look sweaty?  Smell me.” He says faintly, words trailing off when Steve comes right into his space and tugs him into a sweet kiss by way of greeting. Tony throws his arms around his neck and makes sure to show Steve just how pleased he is with this kind of hello. It's nothing like the frantic clutching kisses they shared earlier in the workshop, but it still makes his body light up like a live wire. Happy's seen worse, he can deal.

“You're gorgeous.” Steve whispers into his ear when he pulls back from the kiss and untangles Tony's arms from around his neck. Both of them are breathing a little heavier, but thankfully Happy doesn't comment.

“ _I'm_ gorgeous, look at _you._ ” Tony indicates Steve's whole Steve-ness with a helpless hand flapping motion, and Steve gets that bashful pleased look he gets on his face when Tony gets speechless around him.

“Nah, got nothing on my sweetheart.” He says, eyes glittering. Tony groans, leaning his head against Steve's shoulder.

“Do not turn this around on me, I turned it around on you first. That's rude, and has to be against the Geneva convention or something, sneaky.” Tony babbles, reaching out to rub his hands over the soft blue shirt all but vacuum packed to Steve’s chest.  

“Fondling me already, Stark, I’m not that kinda boy.”  Steve laughs, taking both of Tony's hands and leading him over to the car where Happy's holding the door open and looking his namesake. Steve gets in first before reaching out to pull Tony in next to him. Steve seems to have completely abandoned any sense of shame when it comes to manhandling Tony, and Tony couldn't be happier about it. He wonders how easily he could hold him up against a wall. Best not to think of then when he'll likely be in public soon.

“So, where are we going?” Tony asks, turning towards Steve while they both buckle their seat-belts. The car slides seamlessly into reverse, and they're out on the street in no time.

“Thor let me have a bite of that Froyo stuff he was eating. It was really good, I thought we could go get some.” He trails off when Tony just stares.  “I can choose something different, we don't have to-it just seemed..”

“Steve, it's fine, it's great. I would love to go have Froyo with you. Let's do this.” It's so normal, so _domestic_ and such a coupley thing to do that Tony doesn't know what to make of it. Steve looks delighted though, scooting closer to Tony across the seat and lacing their fingers together between them. Tony stares at their joined hands as if they hold all the secrets of the universe. It feels almost surreal that those fingers had been in his mouth not so long ago. Tony licks his lips. _Not the time._

“Great, that's really great, hope you like the place I found.” Steve says, beaming at him as he rattles off the address for Happy.

“Uh, if you like frozen yogurt that much then I can get a froyo machine delivered, you can have it anytime you like.” Tony murmurs, blinking as Steve darts in to steal a kiss.

“I don't want a froyo machine Tony, I just wanna take you out. Fella like you deserves to go out somewhere don't you think?” Steve is just so _earnest_ when he says things like that. The man is a troll when he wants to be, but right now he's being completely sincere. He always seems to be sincere when talking about spending time with Tony. It makes him swallow thickly, his fingers squeezing reflexively around Steve's.

“Sure I-okay, yeah It's going to be amazing I'm sure. God I've seen you eat ice cream, their profits are going to increase at least ten percent today.” In the rear-view mirror Happy's eyes catch his when Steve kisses his cheek fondly. Fuck. He's so fucked. Everyone knows he is, he may as well just give in completely. What did Rhodey say again? _Stop overthinking things_.

They make it to the Pinkberry before Tony realizes that he's managed to be in a car being chauffeured around without needing to do deep breathing exercises, or distract himself from the trip. It blindsides him, causing the breath to stutter in his chest. Steve catches his wrist, rubbing his fingers over his rabbiting pulse.

“Tony, you alright?” Steve murmurs, turning him so that they're leaning into each others space; effectively putting himself between the sidewalk traffic and Tony.

“I'm fine, I'm fine, think you just wanted a hug.” Tony mumbles, but leans his head against Steve's shoulder nonetheless.

“Of course, always want a hug from you Mister Stark.” Steve says without missing a beat. God sometimes Steve is just unreal. 

“C'mon, we're going to get shoved standing around on the sidewalk like this.” Tony suggests, going quiet when Steve hums, pulling back to tip Tony's chin up with one hand. He smiles, brushing their lips together and then putting space between them.

“Aye aye captain.” Steve salutes. Tony rolls his eyes affectionately.

“Steve.” He laughs, tugging him towards the shop “Stop being an ass and come eat your weight in yogurt.”

The thought of food gets him moving, and together they walk through the door, Steve guides him through first, one hand spread really quite daringly over Tony's lower back. The bell jingles. He's in a little froyo shop with a jingly door with Captain America on a _date_. The walls are painted in soothing colors, white plastic tables are dotted around the place, and dead eyed teenager is standing behind a long counter full of what looks to be enough sweet toppings to make Willy Wonka cream his candy pants. It feels momentous.

“It smells really nice in here.” Steve observes as if Tony is not having an existential revelation right in front of him.

“Hi, welcome to Pinkberry, what do you want?” Says the woman behind the counter.  Tony doesn't think that's the corporate approved greeting, but he doesn't really care. The girl clearly doesn't recognize them, and that's so rare that it's worth its weight in gold.

Steve gets a bunch of different flavors in truly impressive quantities. He covers them in toppings, looking increasingly gleeful about the amount of sugar he's about to inhale. Tony chooses coconut-a little inside joke with himself, but also he really does like the taste of the stuff.

Loot in hand they take their seats near the back of the place. Steve looks almost too large to be sitting in such a tiny plastic chair. He's smiling brightly at Tony though, watching him eat his yogurt as if there's nowhere he would rather be. Tony is shocked to find he agrees.

“Take your sunglasses off hot shot.” Steve gestures at him with a dessert heaped spoon, indicating the purple lenses.

“Why, you want to gaze into my eyes?” Tony flutters his lashes for effect. Steve shrugs, reaching over to take Tony's free hand in his.

“Yeah, you've got pretty eyes.” He says softly, meeting Tony's gaze dead on. Tony puts his spoon down to take his sunglasses off wordlessly, folding them up and leaving them on the table. “Better, thank you sweetheart.” Then he leans over the table to pull Tony into a long sweet kiss that makes Tony's toes curl in his shoes. Steve's mouth is cool and sugary sweet, he swipes his tongue over Tony's lips to make him shiver. Tony wants to crawl into his lap and never leave, but self control is apparently a thing that exists even for him.  “What flavor is yours?” Steve asks, drawing back from the kiss, but not before pressing his lips to the corner of Tony's mouth. Tony shakes himself, looking down at his half forgotten bowl.

“I think it's called 'coconut cumplosion' or something. Why, do you want to taste it?” Tony asks with as much seriousness as he can muster, which isn't much. Steve chokes, and Tony waggles his eyebrows when Steve breaks out into some very undignified laughter. Light slants in through the windows, making the ends of Steve's hair glow gold. It's unfair that Steve can still look that good under fluorescent lighting, but he's looking at Tony as if he's thinking the same thing.

“You're terrible. Here, do you wanna try mine? It's peach with sprinkles,” Steve smiles at him all soft and dopey, dipping his spoon into one of the many bowls spread out in front of him and holding it out to Tony.

“Sure, why not, I like to live on the edge.” It's sweet, so incredibly sweet, but it's pretty good too, and Tony finds himself licking the spoon. Although that may be in large part thanks to the way Steve's eyes have dropped to his mouth. Tony _does_ love a rapt audience. ''Pretty good, what's that one?” It takes a few minutes to try all of the flavors, mostly because Steve has the sweet tooth of a toddler and Tony has to chug water between a few of his more diabetes inducing concoctions. By the time they scrape the bottom of their bowls Tony is sailing on happy hormones and enough glucose to power a wind turbine.

When they get up to leave Tony tosses a wad of bills into their dead eyed hostess' tip jar. She stares at it, then back at him as if his face has suddenly registered. He jerks a thumb at Steve, then himself and mimes a zipping motion. Bless her, she just nods, reaching out to take the money and stow it in her apron. Steve watches the whole exchange with a clearly amused expression, dropping a kiss on Tony's cheek once he comes into range.

The sidewalk is bustling with activity when they exit, Steve wraps an arm around his waist, encouraging him to press close while they walk. He doesn't seem to have a specific destination in mind. Tony has to admit it's nice to just be with Steve. Here on the sidewalk they could be any couple out for an evening stroll. Nothing pressing is happening, well no more than usual at any rate. Tony has a million projects to get back on when they get back to the mansion but that's neither here nor there.

It's starting to get dark when Steve buys a handful of glow necklaces from a street vendor. He grins, dropping the bright circle of neon blue around Tony's neck.

“It's your color.” He says when Tony looks down at it, fingers slipping over the cool glowing plastic. “The holograms, your holograms. The arc light, it's...it's that blue.” Steve stutters out, his eyes wide and so incredibly blue in the soft light of the necklaces. Tony forgets to breathe. Steve _likes_ the arc reactor. Even though he doesn't know it's actually embedded in Tony's chest, just the thought that he likes the color of the light is enough to make something like hope crash through Tony like a wave.

“You, you like this color? You like the arc reactor?” Breathless, he's breathless. Their steps come to a halt-blue light filling the space as Steve turns towards him, eyes fixed on Tony's face searchingly-as if he knows this isn't just a simple question about color preferences.

“Course I do.” Steve murmurs, cupping Tony's cheek with one broad palm. Tony leans into it without a second thought. “My fella made it, didn't he?” He's speaking softly, almost as if he's afraid Tony will spook and go running off, but that's the furthest thing from his thoughts right now. All he wants is to be closer, to be wrapped up in Steve, for Steve to hold him close.

“Steve” He whispers, at a loss for what to say. His eyes slip shut when Steve leans in to kiss him.

“It's amazing Tony, _you're_ amazing.” Steve says as he peppers his face with kisses, and Tony squirms but doesn't push him away. It should be sappy, it _is_ sappy-sappy and cheesy, and so so _wonderful_ that Tony doesn't know what to do with himself. He wonders if Pepper will be deeply offended if he calls to whine pathetically about his feelings. No, she has better things to do than deal with whatever crisis Tony is having at any given moment. He asks too much of her as it is.  Granted she's always said that Tony needs to talk more about things, not bottle them up and agonize, but he doubts she wants to hear his thesis on why Steve is incredible and he's afraid to ruin everything.

“If I'm amazing then what does that make you, Captain America?” He says, interrupting his own spiraling thoughts before they ruin the moment. He gets a blinding smile in return.

“Just Steve Rogers is fine, don't wanna be Cap all the time. Sometimes I just want to come home to my sweetheart.” It's ridiculous, Steve talking to him like this as if he's some kind of war bride waiting for a soldier to come back home, but as usual Steve's sincerity means he pulls it off. Judging from the smile on his face he knows he's pulling it off too.

“Well, I could make you my kept man, then you could be just Steve Rogers all the time, but you won't let me buy you presents.” He's not pouting, he's _not_.

“I've got something for you, speaking of presents.” Steve looks nervous suddenly, the uncharacteristic expression creasing the spot between his eyebrows into a little dent. Tony wants to kiss it. “Here, let's get off the sidewalk.” Steve walks them over to a well kept square, bringing Tony to sit with him on a bench.

“So much suspense Steven, now you've made me curious.” This doesn't seem like a precursor to an 'it's not you, it's me' speech, so Tony keeps his cool, curiosity winning over panic for the time being. Steve ducks his head, turning so they're half facing each-other. Their knees touch, Steve leaning in to press a fleeting kiss against Tony's lips. A soft sigh escapes him when Steve pulls back.

“I was thinking of a way to show you-” Steve reaches up, thumb pressing at the vivid mark that's formed high up on Tony's neck. His mark. Tony gasps, hand snapping up to hold Steve's hand there. Their eyes meet, as Steve rubs at the bruise. “To show you I'm serious about wanting this, wanting everything.” His hand drops despite Tony's sad little sound of dismay. “It's not much, but well, you sure do make it hard for a guy to give you presents.” Steve reaches into his pocket then, pulling a small red baggie out. He passes it over as if it's an explosive, biting his lip while Tony opens it.

“Oh, is this-” Tony touches over the links of a fine silver chain, clearly not standard military issue. “Is this real...is this really your-” The chain pools in the red silk of the bag with one singular dog tag hanging from it.

“Yeah Tony, it's real. One for you, and one for me.” Steve carefully takes Tony's hand to press it against the necklace under his own shirt. There's only one tag now, the other resting in the little pouch. Tony takes a deep breath, unable to tear his gaze away from the blue eyes staring into his so intently. “If you don't want it, I know it's not the best present, but I hoped-” Steve doesn't get to finish his sentence because he very suddenly has a lap-full of Tony Stark doing his level best to kiss the doubt right out of him.

“Don't want it! Don't want it? Are you nuts, did that last villain knock your brain right out of your beautiful perfect head?” Tony might be just a tad loud but he really doesn't give a shit right now. “Put this on me Captain, that's an order. I'm not part of the military so I technically can't give you orders, but God, Steve. Do you-do you have any idea how much I want this? I love it, it's perfect, I never thought. Your tag, for me, yes. Please put it on me so I'll shut up.” He babbles, unable to stem the tide of his words in the face of just how much he wants this, how much he feels as if he'll shatter, just fly apart into a million pieces of overwrought emotion. Here he's been agonizing about Steve wanting him this whole time, while Steve was carrying around _this._

“You got it sweetheart, anything you want.” Steve says, his laughter full of joy and relief. He takes the necklace from Tony's hand, undoing the clasp and settling the thin chain around his neck. His fingers brush along Tony's neck, warm fleeting sensations that make Tony shiver. He stays still though, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, letting Steve settle it to his liking. When it's good and in place Tony poses a little bit, watching Steve's eyes darken with no small amount of satisfaction.

“How do I look?” Tony asks, trying for coy but mostly ending up giddy.

“You look like you're all mine.” Steve says softly, and his hand slips down Tony's back to touch the bruises along his hip.

“You really _really_ shouldn't say things like that to me in public Steve. It's not fair.” Tony might be whining but Steve seems to find it endearing. As if to prove that unvoiced opinion, Steve pulls him down into long heated kisses. Tony's brain is definitely not firing on all cylinders, but that hardly seems to matter.

“You really like it?” Steve asks when they come up for air.

“Yes, feel me liking Steve, I am _liking_ a lot.” Tony presses against Steve, uncaring that he's shamelessly draped across the man's lap in a public space. If pictures of this somehow get out the stock dip will be worth it for the way Steve is looking at him right now.

“Tell me other things you like, I want to know how to make you happy.” Steve says, pressing kisses to his lips, making him dizzy with want and heat totally out of place to sitting on an innocuous bench in a park.

“I like a lot of things Steve, and I'll like anything you like probably, unless it involves um.” Tony licks his suddenly dry lips “Blindfolds, I used to really like them, but I-I can't now. Being tied up, that kind of thing, used to love it.” Tony has been on both sides of the experience, both the one doing the tying, and the one tied up, he hates that it's just one more thing his kidnapping stole from him.  He wishes he were stronger.

“You don't like that anymore then?” Steve asks, his gaze serious and intense, as if he's filing all this information away with the same importance of a mission briefing.

“I like the idea of it, but in practice, it just...doesn't work anymore. I'd like to try again someday. With someone I love, with someone I trust. You. If um. If you wanted that.” For all his reputation as a playboy has spiraled out of control over the years, Tony still finds it difficult to ask for things. Showing vulnerability has always left him feeling shaky and off balance. He can hear Howard even now _be a man boy, stop being so weak._ He pushes that aside though, buries it deep, that horrible ache washed away by the look on Steve's face. His mouth has dropped open slightly, eyes bright with something Tony can't put a name to. 

“I'd be honored to do that. To have you trust me enough for that, but I only wanna do things you love, I want to make you feel so good Tony, because you are good, God, you're so perfect.” Steve's words twist down Tony's spine in a rush of sensation; as if he reached out and physically caressed him.

“Oh” Tony breathes out “I um. Praise. It ah-it's very good, since we're being honest here, you should know this about me.” Tony shifts closer, rubbing his cheek against Steve's in an unconscious demand to be touched.

“You _like_ being praised.” Steve says, catching on immediately, one hand going up to stroke through the dark tousle of his hair.

“Yeah. A lot. Especially by you, because I'm pretty gone on you Steve, but I think you knew that already.”

“I'm pretty gone on you too sweetheart.” Steve continues petting him, drawing him into warm kisses that make his entire body tingle. “I'll praise you as much as you like, got a lot to say.”

“Steve, this isn't, it's not just about me, tell me what you like, anything you like, I'll-I'll do it, I want to make you happy too.” He realizes he's getting a little worked up here, but he can't help it. Most people have been all too happy to let Tony run the show so to speak, but Steve just continuously leaves him guessing.

“All I want is you, want to make you happy, seeing you enjoy yourself, that's what I want.” Steve's voice is hoarse, his kisses grow a little firmer, but they don't progress into anything heavier. Tony feels as if he's coming apart at the seams with frustration. _That doesn't tell me what to do!_ He wants to yell, but instead he lets Steve kiss him senseless. Time doesn't seem to flow the same way while they sit there under a streetlamp on a park bench. It's not the most comfortable spot though, even perched atop Steve's lap as he is, and it's starting to get a little chilly. Steve hums, taking his hands and rubbing them between his own broad palms. “Are you cold?” He asks, as if he's not being used as a pillow on a wooden bench. As if Tony's comfort is the only important thing in the world.

“Just my hands, my bad circulation, it happens.” Tony tries for levity, but Steve's brow furrows with concern, and before he knows it they're both standing again.

“I'm ready to go back to the mansion if you are. I should have brought a jacket.” Steve says, obstinate as ever. Tony sighs. At this point he knows that arguing with Steve's desire to take any complaint of his as call to action is a moot point. Besides he does not want Steve to worry if he decides to be stubborn. It _is_ getting chilly.

Tony shoots off a text to Happy after a moment of fiddling with his phone. JARVIS helpfully throws little fireworks animations all over his screen. Tony squints. _Congratulations on your date, don't panic Tones._ How Rhodey manages to sound smug via text is an ongoing mystery, but he's sure JARVIS had something to do with it. JARVIS is fired. Rhodey is fired. Are the two of them talking about him?

As if sensing his impending fit of embarrassed pique the Jag rolls around the corner before he can pick up any steam. Happy hops out to open the door, and Tony doesn't even pretend to be surprised when Steve practically carts him into the backseat. He _is_ surprised though when Steve goes for the whole backseat make out thing with gusto. Tony is definitely oh so very on board with this chain of events. They only break apart when Happy whistles. Steve jerks his hands away from Tony's thighs as if he's been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

“Happy, Hap, you have seen _so_ much worse than this, I can't believe you would do this to me. I am Betrayed, shot through the heart-” Tony's rant is cut off by Happy gesturing around at the garage. Oh. Next to him Steve is laughing, looking kiss ravaged and blissed out. It's a good look for him.

“I'm just gonna go boss, you two kids have fun.” Happy says, climbing out of the car as he speaks. Tony waggles his eyebrows after Happy's retreating back and then crawls right up into Steve's lap again.

“Where were we?” Steve slides his hands up his thighs, leaning in to press quick little kisses to Tony's lips. Tony likes where this is going, and where it is going seems to be right into the realm of Tony's fantasies. Never let it be said that a young Tony Stark had not entertained many a fantasy about Captain America and what he might get up to in the backseat of a car. His fantasies then had not included how fantastic Steve's hands feel cupping his ass, nor how absolutely intense Steve's kisses are when he's aroused and interested. God, Steve is going to be the death of him.

“Gonna, die.” He moans, as Steve's hips grind up against him, as Steve pulls their bodies together and erases every thought from his mind except how they feel locked together.

“La petite mort, I can get behind it.” Steve pants, shocking Tony entirely by reaching between their bodies' to cup Tony through his pants with one hand.

“You, you dirty-fuck, does anyone know Captain America is such a-” What he was going to say is cut off with a moan as Steve's hips rock up against his own. “Oh god, Steve, please-oh please, you've been driving me out of my mind-but oh god, is this okay?”

“More than, more than okay-and how do you think _I_ feel. Tony, God, Tony, you, just looking at you makes me feel out of control.” Steve sounds wrecked already, his lips are kiss reddened, his hair disheveled from Tony running his fingers through the soft blond strands. He looks gone on it already, as if having Tony red faced and aroused on his lap is everything he's ever wanted. He's panting, eyes almost glassy as he leans up to steal another kiss. It's scorching hot, devouring, making his stomach flip with how quickly it spikes his arousal. “I've been trying so hard to hold back but you...can I touch you, can I?” Steve grits out, skimming his teeth over Tony's bottom lip, his hand pressing right _there_ against the zipper of Tony's trousers in a way that makes him whimper.

“Please. Please yes, touch me, touch me all over, anywhere you want, I need it, want you” His voice cracks with desperation but he doesn't let that stop him “-want it so bad.” Tony feels like maybe he should feel more concerned about how quickly he's losing it, but it doesn't matter, not with Steve looking at him like _that._ Steve's gaze is hot, his eyes dark as he pops the button of his slacks open and slips his hand inside. Tony can't help the gasp he lets out when Steve finally, _finally_ touches him. It feels life changing, earth shattering after wanting for so long, he arches against that touch, squirming in Steve's lap and trying to show him how much he wants this with everything in his being.

“You're so wet for me, God, a gorgeous mess.” Steve says wonderingly, his fingers curling around Tony's cock in his underwear to give him a squeeze. Tony moans long and loud, red to his ears as Steve strokes him, spreading slick precome around the head and thumbing at the tip in a way that sends him arching and thrusting through that perfect grip.

“Oh god-” Tony groans “Not gonna last long, fuck this is so embarrassing-I-I should-”

“Don't think about that, god, Tony, don't think about that, I wanna see it, see you come apart, you're so sweet, so wet and good for me.” Steve's voice is a filthy growl, all heat, and Tony just can't help bucking into his hand again as he starts to stroke him at a pace he knows will undo him sooner rather than later. “Gorgeous, yeah, just like that.” Steve pants out, his hips rising up to grind against Tony's as he rides the motions of his hand, and oh god he never should have told Steve he likes to be praised.

“That's, that's playing dirty Steve, using my kinks against me so quickly.” Tony pants out, resting his forehead against Steve's, his hips rocking and swiveling into every touch of Steve's hand.  It's only a handjob, but it's  _Steve_ touching him, it feels like a revelation, pleasure spiraling up through his body, leaving him feeling as if he might melt right into Steve's arms, his body unable to hold itself up as Steve makes him gasp and his thighs shake.

“No one ever said I was fair” Steve murmurs, leaning back in the seat and bringing his other hand up to lick and suck at his fingers, blue eyes locked with Tony's as he draws his fingers out of his mouth and reaches behind Tony.

“Oh.” Tony says, his head spinning with the look in Steve's eyes. “Oh yes, please.” He repeats, as that hand slips beneath the sagging waistband of his pants and Steve's clever fingers stroke through his crease. Tony feels his eyes roll back involuntarily, his body strings tight with anticipation, and Steve doesn't disappoint him. He seals their mouths together, swallowing Tony's probably far too loud sounds. Strong fingers curl over his cock, and the hand he's slipped into the back of Tony's pants squeezes a handful of firm muscle before moving in to rub just the pads of two fingers teasingly over his hole. It shouldn't affect him this much, just that barely slick rub, the pads of Steve's fingers there; but the suggestion, the idea that it's Steve touching him there, Steve moaning into their shared kisses as Tony writhes in his lap, Steve's hand pumping his cock in sure even strokes. Tony sobs, pulling away from Steve's mouth to hide his face against Steve's neck as he comes and comes and comes. He feels as if he's turning inside out, as if his whole body is one superheated wash of firing neurons. He's mouthing at Steve's skin, letting out soft little noises he'll deny if asked later. Steve pets him through it, murmuring encouragement, and slipping his hand from Tony's ass to rub over his back.

“Yes Tony, god you're so beautiful, so good.” Steve murmurs against Tony's sweaty hair, his hand still pumping his cock gently, letting him ride out the last aftershocks of his orgasm until he hiccups with oversensitivity and Steve's hands both slip away.

“Steve-” He pants wetly against the warm skin his face is hidden against “Steve let me, let me return the favor.” His voice slurs, the words blending together as if he's a few shots of whiskey into a bender. Steve has gone hot, and when Tony manages to sit up properly and get a good look at him, he looks more than a little sheepish.

“I um. Watching you was, it was just so good Tony, I-ah. You won't have to reciprocate.” Steve murmurs, his entire face is a lovely shade of tomato red. Oh. _Oh._ That's; that's well, something. Tony feels like he might cry, their first shared orgasms and neither of them even managed to get out of their pants. It would be a tragedy if it didn't tic so many boxes on his Ultimate Fantasy Hitlist (mostly involving One Steve Rogers). “Besides” Steve continues “This was about you, I wanted to do this, to see you. Like this.” He finishes, the set of his jaw making his bottom lip jut as he sets it stubbornly in reaction to whatever expression Tony can feel his face twisting into.

Tony just can't deal with him. He wants to yell at Steve that this is about him too, to whine that this isn't the best he can do. There are expectations of what Tony Stark might be like in bed, and this is definitely not any of them. He's supposed to be making this good for Steve, supposed to be blowing his mind; so he'll stay, he has a reputation to uphold. A reputation Steve doesn't really seem interested in, he's looking at Tony, down at his spent cock and the mess on his hand as if it's the best thing he's ever seen, and Tony has the irrational urge to cover himself.

“I can't believe we came in our pants.” He says instead. Steve laughs, and Tony starts looking for the wet wipes he knows to be stowed in the center console near the driver's seat.

 

* * *

 

They don't leave the car for another thirty minutes, when they finally do stumble out, clothes askew and looking rumpled, Clint is laying across the Ferrari on the other side of the garage with his back to them, eating what looks to be an entire box of ring dings.

“Hey.” Steve says, looking completely unembarrassed by their having been going at it in the back of a car like a pair of horny teenagers.“Those are mine.”

Clint shifts on the Ferrari, turning towards the movement in his peripheral vision and screams, clutching the box to his chest when he sees them. He bolts away at top speed. It's actually kind of impressive. Tony didn't know he could run that fast.

“Oh. He didn't have his hearing aides in.” Tony says, and Steve's eyes narrow. Oh god. Tweety and Cap are going to have a fucking face off about snack cakes, and Tony just came in his pants in the back of his jag. What is Tony's life? What is the world coming to?

“Going to shower and head to the lab, or you want to come eat?” Steve asks. It's obvious which answer he prefers-he still doesn't seem to think Tony's shakes are food.

“I really need a shower, and I've got some stuff in the lab, there's a lot I need to work on-” He trails off; Steve's getting a look on his face Tony knows so well. “But I'll come take a few minutes to eat first. Well. After the shower. Didn't Thor manage to make spaghetti yesterday? Or was that some terrifying fever dream?”

“Yeah he did make spaghetti, but you're right, we should shower first. We're kind of a mess.” Steve looks immensely proud of himself, and more than a little red.

“And who's fault is that, hmm? It couldn't be innocent, Captain America's doing, now could it?” Tony says, laughing when Steve ducks his head and squeezes him against his side.

“Cap's old fashioned, nothing more old fashioned than a handy in the back of a car with your steady.” Steve says, in the voice he uses when he's fucking with the press.

“Oh my god, whatever, let's go take a shower, and then mythical Norse spaghetti.”

Thor's spaghetti is surprisingly good. So is how the man looks in a pair of oven mitts. Jan shows him the picture she snapped. He supposes Asgardian warrior Princes probably look majestic no matter what. When he informs Thor of his opinion he receives an extra meatball.

It's delicious.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, he excuses himself down to the lab. Steve sees him off with a lingering kiss that puts a spring in Tony's step. He rubs at the tag beneath his shirt as he works, almost unable to believe it really happened. That Steve wants him that much. He contemplates calling Rhodey, but it's late, and he has a life of his own. Instead he focuses on repulsor upgrades, letting the familiar process calm the noise in his head as it always does.

Three hours later he jerks awake to the sound of sirens going off. He's half sprawled over a lab table, sheets of plans sticking to his face when he raises his head.

“There has been a break in at your Seattle facility sir, you have instructed me to inform you first, as the facility contains classified projects. Would you like me to raise the alarm with the Avengers?” Jarvis asks crisply. Tony shakes his head, tiredness draining away into battle readiness as he presses his fingers to the bracelet around his wrist, calling the armor to him from its hiding spot beneath the floor of the lab. As it closes around him, he takes a deep breath, willing the pounding of his heart to stabilize.

“Who is it, do you have a bead on them Jay?”

“No sir, they appear to have merely dropped off an envelope, nothing was taken, but there was nothing gleaned from biometric scans.” There are precious few people who know how to get around Tony's biometric readers. One was upstairs eating Thor's meatballs the last time he saw her, the other he used to call a friend.

Tony swallows thickly. He knows what Natasha would say, she would probably be shaking him right know if she knew what he was contemplating. “No” He says “pretty sure I know who the delivery boy is, I can handle it.” There's no reason to bring anyone else into this. If it _is_ Ty, it could be any number of his enemies-that can get past his biometric scans. God, it has to be Ty. The Avengers have better things to do than clean up his messes.

“Sir, are you sure?” JARVIS says, speaking now all around him from the speakers within the helmet. Tony turns his palms down, assuming flight position as the escape tunnel beneath the mansion opens up and lights from within.

“Don't start Jay, now is not the time.” Will it ever really be the time? Tony doesn't know, but he can keep putting it off at any rate.

“As you say.” JARVIS allows, but he doesn't sound happy about it at all.

He streaks out of the mansion as quickly and stealthily as he can, which means no going supersonic. What a shame. Still, he allows himself some indulgent loops in the air, as he guns it all the way to Seattle. The trip takes far less time when encased in a super powered armor rather than a jet, although it is nice to have a bed to sleep on in said jet. He wishes he could take Steve flying like this. With nothing pressing over their heads', or a mission to complete. Steve is such an adrenaline junkie, he would probably love it.

Just as he begins to get melancholy about the prospect of never being able to make out with Steve while armored, the Seattle branch comes into view. When he arrives inside, the facility is dark. All the manufacturing bots are powered down, a strange thing even at three in the morning. Silent alerts blink everywhere as Tony tries to creep through the building as quietly as possible. Tony makes a mental note to work on a stealth armor. Thankfully the building is almost entirely empty; save for custodial staff and security which are not cleared for this area as it is. JARVIS assures him everyone still in the building is unharmed, but Tony still checks through every feed to make certain. Satisfied with the safety of his employees, he wends through the darkened halls. The envelope sits facing the basement reactor, placed atop a metal table with a hydroponic planter full of experimental seedlings meant to grow food even in the dark.

The envelope is addressed to Tony Stark. Tony stares at it, one hand outstretched, before he thinks better of touching it without running some diagnostics first.

“Run handwriting scan, toxicity matrix, it doesn't look explosive, but lets make sure before I touch it.” If it _is_ a bomb, he'll very likely be fine, the armor can take on anti tank missiles easily, it's the other people in the building he can't endanger. The envelope doesn't look like a bomb, but Tony has been in the 'people will try to kill you in new and exciting ways' business for long enough to know that looks mean nothing when it comes to implements of destruction.

“Nothing appears to be amiss sir.” JARVIS says after a short silence. Tony looks over the results, scanning over information as quickly as possible. Everything looks in order. “However, the handwriting matches that of Tiberius Stone. Would you like me to notify The Avengers _now_?”

“No. I told you, this is my problem.” Besides, what is he going to say, someone broke into my private Seattle labs and left me a note and now I'm panicking? The very idea is ridiculous.

“Sir, if I may, Captain Rogers seemed concerned about this very thing.”

“God, stop. Enough. Ty isn't even _here_ Jay. It's fine.” He mutters, reaching for the envelope. JARVIS' silence is telling as to what he thinks of Tony's decision. He very pointedly ignores that. Steve probably doesn't even know he's gone. It's three in the morning, prime time for sleeping supersoldiers. Even if some part of him does feel awful leaving him in the dark like this.

The envelope is light, just barely registering on the armors sensors with its weight. Tony gets is open easily, only just managing not to flinch when a slip of paper falls into his repulsored palm.

“Run while you can, I can't control it anymore. You're in danger.” Tony reads the words, then reads them again. It looks like Ty is still the most dramatic asshole on the planet.

“Now may I call the authorities?” JARVIS asks on a long suffering sigh.

“Activate protocol Echo Nine Tango Seven Three Mike India Sierra-in case of emergency, you know the drill JARVIS.”

“Sir” JARVIS starts “that has not been batched for human use, it has none of the limitations and fail-safes of what you and miss Shuri developed in Cairo.”

“That version was always meant for me.” Tony says quietly. “For the possibility of something going horribly wrong. I'm not arrogant enough to think the world needs Tony Stark, but it might just need Iron Man.”

“I believe there are many people in your life whom would debate the first half of that statement-myself included."  JARVIS' tones are soothing, and it makes Tony's eyes well up with how much it reminds him of his namesake.  How many times had the human Jarvis used this tone when coaxing him from a hiding place?  How many times had he held a handkerchief to Tony's face while he sobbed about something Howard had done?  But no, as much as he wants to believe what JARVIS is saying, he also can't put people he loves-people who love him in return for some reason-in danger.

“JARVIS-” Tony sighs “We've been over this, the protocol is not going to kill me.” At least he thinks it won't. There's a very high possibility that he's wrong, but if it comes to that, dying is already a certainty anyway. Last ditch efforts to stay alive are rarely the safest of things.

“You have no way of knowing how it will affect you. You should at least inform your partner of this contingency.”

“Steve does **not** need to know about this.” Tony's voice rises despite his desire to keep his head. JARVIS is silent again. Tony crumples up Ty's lovely gift and uses the repulsors to blast it into tiny scraps of paper. It's oddly satisfying.

“I believe this to be unwise sir.”  JARVIS should know by now this has less than a zero chance of Stopping any plan Tony might have when his mind is already made up.

“Yeah well, the list of things I've done that you think are unwise could fill a book.”

“Indeed.” JARVIS says, he sounds more resigned than angry.

“Indeed, and I concur.” Tony snarks back.

 

* * *

 

 He stays a little longer to update security software and check camera feeds. The compound is quiet, the intruder long, long gone. Tony's shoulders slump in defeat after he reboots the darkened machines and gets everything running again. He walks outside after double and triple checking his people are safe, punching the autopilot for New York as he takes off into the sky. During the flight back he monitors feeds from all around the Seattle facility. The whole place had gone dark the moment Ty had shown up, but some grainy CCTV footage caught his figure on the way there. He had been traveling by foot, in a dark gray hoodie and scuffed work boots. He doesn't look good at all. Ty has always been a preening asshole, seeing him looking better suited to a dive bar than a rooftop lounge is jarring. It makes something awful and nervous creep along Tony's spine. He resolves to improve security on the Arc powering the mansion, and his own personal reactor, the one faithfully keeping his heart running. He gets the feeling there's a whole lot of magic at play here, but the monster, and Ty himself left Seattle's reactor intact.

“God I hate magic, and wizards, and summoned shit.” Tony grumbles. JARVIS begins playing Lord of The Rings on one of his side displays.

“Even Gandalf, sir?”

“No, what kind of monster do you think I am? If I drift before his fireworks, you have my permission to scream in my ear until I wake up.” It's a pointless thing to say really, there's absolutely no way he'll be able to get any rest for a while yet. Adrenaline still pounds through his veins, leaving him shaky and a mix of exhausted and far too awake even as he arrives back at the mansion just as the sky is beginning to brighten.

The lab is just as he left it, and suddenly Tony wants to be anything but alone. The armor sheds off of him in a wave, disappearing back beneath the floor. Tony takes a moment to brush his hair into a semblance of order, and to make the attempt at smoothing his rumpled clothing. The tag is warm against his chest, and Tony reaches up to clutch at it beneath his shirt.

“Is Steve awake?” Tony all but croaks, giving up on the state of his clothes and going over to grab a spare set out of his lab closet. Technically he could live down here for weeks and never emerge, but he's trying something new.

“Captain Rogers woke when you arrived, perhaps you are not as quiet as you think yourself to be.” JARVIS snarks. It's impossible, Steve's hearing is amazing, but it's not _that_ good. Is it? Tony shakes himself, stepping out of the lab, only to yelp as he runs into a solid wall of Steve just as he's exiting the elevator on the first floor of the mansion.

“Oh gosh, Tony, I'm sorry!” Steve cries, steadying Tony as he wobbles in place.

“Good lord, you're made of granite, incredible.” Tony mutters, leaning shamelessly into Steve's space to demand a hug. A hug which he gets without delay. Steve holds him, his arms a loose circle around his waist. He seems content to let Tony use him as a space heater for a moment, but then he speaks.

“Sorry, thought I heard Shellhead around, wanted to come down and see if he was up for a spar. You look dead on your feet though, want bed?” The rumble of Steve's voice resonates against Tony's ear where he's plastered himself against Steve's front.

“No um.  Iron Man wasn't here, he's investigating something for me."  Tony is aware that he sounds anything but convincing, but Steve is just nodding as if it's not a flimsy as hell excuse.  And Tony just can't control himself, the guilt and shame of his secrets eating at him until it just spills out.  "What if I was lying to you-” Tony whispers “-about something big? Would that-would that change the way you feel about me?”

Steve's eyebrows raise, but his arms just tighten around Tony further. “You secretly a supervillain, married and got a spouse hidden away somewhere?”

“Steve, what the hell? No!” Tony leans back, staring at Steve aghast.

“Then no.” He says with a smile. “Not a whole lot that could change my mind about loving you.”

“What if I were hiding something from you then, what if something is wrong with me, what if I'm not who you think I am-”

Steve stops him, grabbing his chin with a gentle but inexorable grip to tilt his head back so their eyes meet. “There's nothing wrong with you.” Steve says, and the graveness, the sheer _conviction_ in those words nearly stuns Tony speechless.

“Boy is that a loaded statement.” Tony whispers, turning his head away from that grip, away from the adoring look in Steve's eyes. He leans his head against Steve's shoulder though, unwilling and unable to go hide away.  He snuggles in closer, letting Steve hold him close in the middle of the hall as if it's the only thing worth doing at the asscrack of dawn.

“Look Tony, I don't know what's happened in your past, I got some idea, but if you ever want to tell me I'll listen. But I just. I understand, that you'd want to maybe keep some things to yourself.” Steve's words trip over themselves, as if he's in a hurry to get them out. “Boundaries are an important part of any relationship.” Steve continues with an air of recital.

Tony lifts his head to stare at Steve. “Did you get that from Dr. Acharya, that um. That sounds like a very her thing to say.”

“Maybe” Steve admits with a shrug. “Maybe I've been doing a little reading too, this century sure has a lot of advice you can just go out and buy.” The thought of Steve standing in a bookstore looking through the self help section presents such a surreal picture that Tony's brain can scarcely comprehend it. Steve pauses as if mulling over what he's going to say next, as if he's weighing each thing he says with careful consideration. “I don't think you would hide anything because you wanted to hurt me some way.”

Tony turns in Steve's arms, his insides flipping over unpleasantly. No, he's not hiding things to hurt Steve, but he's certainly not doing this to help him. He's so fucking selfish sometimes, but he doesn't want to stop, can't seem to when it comes to Steve.

“C'mon Tony, what's this about? Did something happen? Did that Hammer asshole call you or something?” Steve is getting a frankly murderous glint in his eyes. Tony can't help but laugh, it seems the name 'Hammer' is perpetually attached to asshole in Steve's mind.

“No Steve, calm down, it was strictly rhetorical, please don't kill anyone.”

Steve doesn't look entirely convinced, but his expression softens when he looks down at Tony. “Wasn't gonna do anything rash-” That's always debatable with Steve, but Tony holds his peace. “You know you can tell me what's on your mind though, whatever it is that brought this on.”

Tony thinks about that-about laying it all out; his identity as Iron Man, his trip to Seattle, his fears for what he's set in motion should the worst occur. No. He doesn't think Steve would still love him if he knew all that, no matter what Steve may think right now. The breath feels frozen in his chest, his lungs tight, and his eyes hot with the desire to just bawl his eyes out in his room, or maybe right here where Steve can get a really good look at what kind of mess he's given his tag to. He pushes it down though, swallows past the lump in his throat.

“It's nothing, really Steve. It's-it's nothing” Tony lies. They say the truth will set you free, but Tony would chain himself to a boulder if it meant one more day feeling Steve's arms around him like this.

For a moment it almost seems as if his bluff is going to be called, but instead Steve lets out a long breath and smiles crookedly. Strong arms enfold him into a tight hug, the closeness more than he deserves after all this, but Tony doesn't fight it. He melts into it immediately, resting his head on a broad shoulder, pressing quick grateful kisses to the juncture of Steve's neck and jaw.

“I love you.” Steve says, his thumb rubbing in a distracting circle over the small of Tony's back. “You better believe it sweetheart.”

“Love you Steve, I just. Yeah. Can we go watch a movie? I know it's early, and you have things to do-” The last thing he wants to do right now is go lay in an empty bed with his thoughts. His mind is a riot of anxiety and ugly memories, but Steve is smiling, as if his request isn't pathetic at all.

“Sure, of course, but I get to pick.” Steve squeezes him once more, tightly enough to make Tony wheeze and smack at his back with a laugh.

They end up watching Snow White. Tony falls asleep half way through to the feeling of Steve's fingers combing through his hair.

“Should have built her a suit of armor, kept the witch away.” Tony half slurs against his very Steve shaped pillow. The warm solid muscle beneath his cheek shakes with laughter.

“Bet you think we all need armor.”  Steve says, rubbing his cheek against the crown of Tony's head.

“Yeah.” Tony mumbles, momentarily exceedingly turned on by the thought of Steve in a red white and blue Iron Man suit. “You most of all, would be-that would be so hot.” That's to say nothing of how much better Steve would be shielded if he had something like the armor encasing his body. His very warm and well muscled body. Steve's hand is tucked between them, fingers around the tag resting between Tony's clavicles, just the brush of his fingers there makes Tony shiver, even tired as he is.“Mmm, you gave me your tag-I should-I should make you armor.” Tony says, perking up where he's been lying in a wilted heap curled up in Steve's lap.

“Forget about it-” Steve laughs, his accent doing a good impersonation of a guy from Goodfellas. Tony is charmed beyond belief. “Go back to sleep Tony.”

“Bossy.” Tony grumbles, but he does take the suggestion, Steve is his favorite pillow after all.

Time slips through his fingers like water after that. He only wakes when Steve very gently tucks him into bed. Tony waves an arm around, catching Steve by the shirt before he gets beyond arm's reach.

“Kiss.” Tony licks his dry lips, blinking up at Steve's face. “Can I get one Captain Handsome?”

“You ransoming me now?” Steve says, but he crawls up on the bed and leans in, trapping Tony beneath him where he's bundled in the covers. Tony wriggles his other arm out from beneath them and pulls Steve down. The first touch of their lips is soft, and it stays that way, presses of their mouths between shared breaths. Steve sinks down over him, tracking kisses over his cheeks, his jaw, the bridge of his nose, and then back to his mouth. Tony feels hot beneath the covers, burning up, just from the way Steve feels over him, kissing him like this.

“Steve-” He says, slipping his hands up to tug at Steve's hair gently.

“Sleep, Tony, you need it.” Steve speaks right up against his lips, and Tony kisses him again, sighing when Steve pulls back and climbs from the bed.

“Give me the banana.” Tony demands, sitting up in the bed.

“Oh I'm not falling for that Tony, banana innuendos were around in my day too.” Steve looks a little red around the ears. Tony rolls his eyes, his heart squeezing troublingly with how much he loves this man.

“Not _that_ kind of banana. You're going to go jog right? It's too early for you to get in bed with me.” Oh how he wishes that were not the case. Steve has better things to do than cuddle him while he sleeps. He's too tired to offer anything enticing right now as it is, and Steve obviously has his plan. “Mister Nanners, Capnana, he's soft and he makes a good pillow.” That and it always makes him think of Steve, but he's not going to say that. He's being ridiculous enough as it is. A wide smile is pulling across Steve's face though, as if there's nothing better than the idea of Tony wanting his silly plush.

“You really like him, huh-I'm glad. I want to bring you things you like.” Steve's cheeks are still red, growing a little redder when he takes Capnana off the dresser and brings it over so Tony can clutch it close.

Tony reels him in for one more kiss. Steve surprises him by deepening it, sucking lightly at is tongue and biting gently at his bottom lip. Tony is panting when he pulls back, hyperaware that Steve's hand has crept beneath the covers, and his shirt to spread over his belly, holding him effectively to the bed. He blinks up at Steve, mouth open and swollen from their kisses. Blue eyes fix on his lips, the pupils blown wide and dark. Oh god. Steve leans in again, trailing kisses over his neck, nosing the collar of his shirt to track the chain holding his tag. He presses a kiss there over the metal, right over the hollow of his throat.

“Goodnight Tony, I love you.” Steve pulls back, pressing Capnana back into his arms, and running his fingers through Tony's hair.

“Oh my god Steve.” Tony breathes out, his whole body feels like a livewire, his cock is leaking into his boxers. Fuck.

“Sleep now, I'll be-” Steve's voice is low and rough, cracking with arousal even as he backtracks across the floor. “I'll be here, I um, goodnight. Tony.” He all but runs from the room after that. Tony holds onto his plush tightly, eyes wide in the growing darkness of the room. Well, at least Steve was just as affected as him. He contemplates taking matters into his own hands, but he's just so tired, and it seems crass to rub one out in front of Steve's banana counterpart.

“JARVIS, play something soothing.” He gets no response to that, JARVIS is very likely still angry about the whole Seattle thing, but the quiet strains of Maria's favorite piano piece still begin filtering through the room.

“Thanks Jay.” He whispers, turning onto his side and holding tightly to his bright yellow pillow.

“Goodnight sir.” He hears JARVIS whisper just as he's dropping off to sleep. Maybe JARVIS isn't as angry as he thought. Tony smiles, and lets exhaustion drag him down.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower meanings:  
> Jonquil symbolizes desire, as well as having the feeling of desire and love requited.


End file.
